


Pavlove

by victorygirl723



Series: the 'folie' between two [3]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Music RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Anxiety, Bipolar Disorder, Cheating, Depression, Eating Disorders, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Slow Build, Suicide Attempt, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-04 21:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3091904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorygirl723/pseuds/victorygirl723
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fall Out Boy is back and better than ever. The boys are concluding Monumentour and getting ready to put out a new album in January. While finishing up the album and beginning promo for it, Pete and Patrick begin to question their relationships and wonder whether they should end up back where they started: with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own any of the characters, lyrics, or the title (obviously). My writing style was inspired by Gray by Pete Wentz.

Bliss is one of those things that is hard to find. It can’t really be created, well at least not in my opinion. It’s gotta be found. It comes when you deserve it, or at least that’s what I tell myself. Bliss and harmony. Great things. They strike and ring in the same pitch. They make life so much easier and much better to endure. Fortunately, I think I have some at the moment. But you know, life tends to shift in the blink of an eye so better take advantage of it. 

I’m in a better place. I can feel it. I mean, I was before but I’ve been the best I’ve ever been. Which is a relief when you feel like you’re insane because it makes you feel a bit more normal. More stable. But then again, what the hell is stability and normality and who the fuck gets to define it? Society? Well, then I don’t want to be apart of it and conform. Unfortunately, I haven’t completely convinced myself to be apart from society. So, I still have to follow the rules and all that jazz and act my part. It’s not horrible, just gets a bit boring after a while. But then again, that’s life. Doing things we don’t want to just because we have to. I’m a bit of a rule breaker though and like to carve my own path so you can understand why I’d have a hard time with it sometimes.

Anyway, the so-called ‘stability’ has actually been great. As much as I was freaking out about the whole career thing a couple years ago, it managed to work itself out which is great. Man, did I almost shit a brick over that. Fall Out Boy is back and better than ever. Our last record we put out was very well received and our fans and the public eye let us back in and basically put us on top and helped us redeem ourselves. I’m incredibly grateful for this because it means someone gives a shit about what I have to say. The dynamic of the band is much better than it was. Joe and Andy have started contributing more and have helped evolve our sound in a different but still equally cool direction. Patrick and I stepped down a bit and were willing to change and change is what we got. Do I miss our old sound and style? Of course. The old records stick to me like glue and are a part of me. But, we must move on and progress.

In a different sense, I’ve been better. I haven’t been having as many ups and downs. The illusion of stability. I’ve got a hold of my thoughts and anxiety and depression for the most part. I mean, don’t get me wrong I was better after my last relapse years ago but my mind hadn’t really adapted to this whole ‘new cognitive thinking’ system. People probably noticed as I was still a bit of a mess. Worrying about every little thing. Freaking out and being a loose cannon. Not proud of it, but progress is slow, right? 

My relationships have gotten better. I’ve tried to be better about saying what I’m thinking and being honest and open which is so fucking difficult, but it’s good for me. At least that’s what my therapist tells me. I do have to admit, it’s been helping me with Joe especially since we had had some rocky times. But it’s good now. The boys and I are closer than ever. Except for me and the blondie.

Don’t get me wrong, Stump and I are plenty close. Still attached at the hip as always. Still on the same wavelength. Guessing what the other is going to say, knowing what the other is thinking or feeling. Regarding our outside relationships though? That’s a different story. 

To play catch up, Patrick ended up marrying the girl he’d been dating who lived in Chicago. After he went back to Chicago after touring with Panic! on his solo tour, they got back together and after a couple more months of dating, he proposed and soon after that, they were married. That was hard for me considering I was captain of the single train over here on top of the fact that I felt like I was losing my best friend. But I was as supportive as I could be (which I admit I could have been much better). 

On my side, after being single and lonely for a good two years, I started dating my current girlfriend, Meagen. She’s funny and beautiful and we have a good time together. She is a change for me but a good change. She’s helped me be more open and encourages me to improve and progress everyday which is awesome because it’s what I need. But, even with all the improvement, I managed to be careless. We’re expecting a baby. I couldn’t believe it either. You’d think I’d be a bit more careful after already having one? Guess I’m just full of love to share. As excited as I am to be a parent again, I’m nervous as hell. Bronx is excited to be a big brother as well which makes me happy but that doesn’t calm me down.

While on the outside it looks like Patrick and I have it all figured out, we sure as hell don’t. After he left LA for Chicago, we didn’t get back together (as obvious as it should be). We didn’t talk much outside of the other meetings we had with Andy and Joe about getting the band back together. Eventually, we made up and started talking again when it came time to write and record the album. When he dropped the bomb on me that he was engaged, I have to admit I may have sat awake too many nights wishing that I could have been better. I wished I’d have told him things that I hadn’t. Cuddled with him the nights that I was too tired and hadn’t. I wished I’d have taken advantage of all the things I hadn’t because I’m a fucking idiot and let the best thing that ever happened to me leave. I got over it and put on a smile for the wedding as I watched the only man I’ve ever loved give himself away to someone who wasn’t me. 

There were too many conversations after that where we didn’t share eye contact because he was afraid to look at me and I couldn’t look at him without breaking down like a desperate wannabe. After about a month of awkwardness, things went back to the way they were. We put out the record and toured and did all the interviews. Everything was great. I, for the most part, had put aside all the past band drama and pain towards Patrick. The record was a smash hit and my life was a ride that could only go up. And then I met Meagen. She was the first person since Ashlee (and I guess more accurately Patrick) who really struck me and lifted my spirits. Patrick saw this too. I couldn’t stop talking about her and smiling and doing stupid things for her twenty-four-seven. Patrick started getting really irritated with me when I did that and started giving me the cold shoulder. Which in return made me pissed off with him because he was allowed to move on and I wasn’t? I was suppose to be single and miserable forever? Whatever. The tensions set in but Patrick didn’t really share his discontent too much until he heard the fact that I got her pregnant. I won’t say too much, but he got too drunk one night and ended up going off on me. You’ve never really experienced life until you’ve seen your best friend truly angry. You’ve seen the eye of the devil. At least in my case. 

To try to be ‘mature adults’ we’ve silently sat most of our feelings in the back seat for now. Despite this, Patrick doesn’t really talk whenever the baby gets brought up. Probably because he doesn’t want to say something he’ll regret. Fair enough. 

So, I guess ignorance really is bliss. It is better to shove your feelings to the back seat and pretend you don’t know anything. If we pretend our hurt and ‘unresolved sexual tension’ or whatever the fuck you want to call it doesn’t exist, than it doesn’t. Right? Right. That’s how it should work. Unfortunately, it’s a bit more difficult to do that when you actually have to willingly shove angst and shit back. Having the awareness exist and to try to fool yourself into thinking it doesn’t is really fucking hard. 

Why do we push away the people we love? I understand feelings and stuff because we choose not to focus or deal with it because it’s too hard, but our friends and family are suppose to be there to help? It seems counter intuitive but I’m guilty of it too. I guess we feel being solitary is better in the end. If we push people away, we don’t have to deal with our feelings as well. We don’t have to open up. We don’t have to feel. We can shut ourselves up within the prison of our mind.

If I have to spend my life pretending that I’m not upset just to keep up this somewhat great relationship we have going than I will. I don’t want to cause anymore blips or bumps in our friendship. I’m clinging to what little interaction and relationship I have left. You never know. The public could drop us just like that and the band could be a distant memory. So any time that I can be ‘pleasant’ for the crowd is better. 

Anyway, it’s been pretty easy to crowd please at the moment. We’re on tour so it’s been pretty chill and not much ‘faking’ needs to be done. Our interactions are natural. We laugh, we piss each other off, typical band stuff. The tour comes to an end in two weeks though so what’ll happen when that comes? Also, Meagen’s due in a few weeks as well so this’ll be interesting when this all comes together. Hopefully everything doesn’t fall to shit but my luck’s pretty shitty so…cross your fingers.

At the moment, we’re on the bus driving to Dallas. We’re all writing and working on our new album that we’re gonna put out in a few months. We’re busy bees. Jumping from one project to the next. A tour to putting out an album. There’s barely any breathing room. Besides the obvious that it is our job to put out stuff and satisfying our own creative needs, I think us doing things one after the other is to keep us from thinking. I’m serious. We don’t fight that much when we’re too fucking busy to. If we’re in a mind set, it feels like we’re in a corset. Restricted as much as possible but not to the point where we can’t function. We just get by. Suffocating, but functioning. I know this whole comparison is super depressing but just try living it. I have gray hairs on top of gray hairs. But I guess it doesn’t really matter considering the fact my hair is bleached now.

I should be full of good vibes, right? I feel like I’m doing something wrong. The band is stronger than ever, we’re super popular, I have a beautiful girlfriend and soon to be new child, I can provide for my family, I live in a great city, what’s not to love? Because I’m selfish though, I feel like there’s something missing. And here comes the whole facade of stability flying to the rescue to try and fill that void within me…  
“Pete.” My head snapped up. Patrick and Joe were staring at me. I blinked trying to refocus on what we were doing. What is it we were doing? Oh yeah. Writing.  
“What?” I asked. Patrick sighed annoyedly. Joe looked away impatiently. They both made gestures to the notebook in front of me.  
“Oh…sorry…I was zoning out,” I said probably turning red.  
“As usual…” Joe mumbled under his breath. I let it slide because I knew they were right. I also didn’t want to start something with Joe.  
“Sorry, okay, let’s see what we have so far,” I said pulling the pages toward me to read. Patrick rolled his eyes.  
“Patrick, is there something you’d like to share with the class?” I breathed out. He straightened up not realizing I’d seen him.  
“Oh…no. Nothing,” he said quickly.  
“That’s what I thought,” I said. He kicked me under the table. I eyed him.  
“I can’t believe I ever let you fool me into thinking you’re a pacifist,” I said almost laughing. Joe was rolling his eyes.  
“Well, it looks like we’re not getting any work done now. I’m going to shower,” he said getting up from the table. I snickered and Patrick stuck his tongue out at me. We heard the door shut and immediately I laid it on him.  
“Why’d you do that?” I asked defensively. He laughed.  
“I don’t know, because you zoned out and you deserved it,” he replied. I waved away from him.  
“Well, this is great. Because I definitely need Joe thinking I’m not taking this serious,” I said.  
“He doesn’t think that,” Patrick said.  
“He will soon if our sessions keep going like this,” I said.   “Look, the album is 90 percent done. After we get this song done and write one more, we can record them, get the record mixed and mastered and be done with it,” he said.  
“As much as that’s suppose to encourage me, it’s not really working,” I said glumly. He pursed his lips.  
“Look, I know this sucks. We’ve been working on this chorus for a month and we’re running in circles but we just need to finish it. Let me see your notebook,” he said. I handed it to him. He skimmed it and began humming some aimless tune. He paused on one he liked. He set the notebook down and pointed to one.  
“This. This one,” he stated. I looked at it.

_You are my favorite, what if you are my best? I’ll never know…_

I stopped. I remembered writing those lyrics vaguely. I scribbled them down the night after one of our tour dates a couple weeks ago. I can’t remember where it was. Cincinnati? Toronto, maybe? I don’t know. All I remember is I was drunk and listening to some Blink-182 song and it got me all reminiscent of us. Together. Unstoppable. On top of the world. But no longer can we exist.

He didn’t know it was for him. Patrick’s oblivious as fuck so no way he’d figure it out unless I told him or made it ten times more obvious. But I was still reluctant to use it.  
“Why?” I asked. I needed to know why it appealed to him.  
“I don’t know. It kinda fits with the whole vibe of the song. Don’t you think?” he asked. I shrugged.  
“I don’t know. We can write better things. I’m positive there’s less shitty options somewhere in there if you look really hard,” I said. He shook his head.  
“I’m asking Joe and Andy and if they say yes, we’re putting it in,” he declared. I sighed.  
“Fine. Go for it,” I said. I didn’t care anymore. If it was going to be in a song, it’d be some secret desperate call for attention that he’ll never know about.  
“Okay,” he said before walking over to a sleeping Andy and shoving him to wake up and ask him.

I wasn’t lying when I said there were better options for lyrics in my notebook. At least, in my opinion there are. That one makes me cringe every time I hear it because it sounds so whiny and desperate. I guess that’s all I am though so…


	2. Chapter 2

To be honest though, I have been lacking in inspiration lately for lyrics. It’s great that I’m not depressed all the time like I used to be. Really, the weight that used to hang over me everyday is gone and I feel freer. Unfortunately, the cost of not being tortured is lack of creativity in the whole lyrics department. People want to relate their pain to others. They want to come out of their dark holes and share their struggles with people who understand them. And yes we can write inspirational songs about getting up but sometimes you need to think of the listener, not about yourself. But I don’t want to be stuck in this eternal hole of self pity and despair. So, you can see why I’ve been having trouble. Most of my good lyrics come from when I have bad days or I’m drunk and I let my unconscious run free for a couple hours. I can’t exactly be drunk or sad all the time so the good comes in chunks. I do have three other guys to help me out though. Well, two I guess. As much as our system has changed, Patrick doesn’t really do the lyrics that much. He doesn’t throw out much. Neither does Andy. They’re mostly composers. So, really one person. 

Maybe I’ll have some great epiphany like Isaac Newton and discover the key to writing good music without all the unnecessary struggle of finding lyrics. Maybe. 

Andy and Joe both ended up agreeing to the lyric suggestion so I was overridden on that one. Joe asked me how I had come up with it and I lied about it saying I had written it years ago about Ash. He didn’t believe it. I didn’t need him to though. I just needed Patrick to not know. 

After the show in Austin, Andy and Joe went out with David, Soren, and Louis to some honky tonk bar. Andy doesn’t drink but that doesn't mean he’s against watching Joe and the other guys get drunk off their ass and do stupid shit. Patrick’s never really up for that stuff and I was really tired so it was us two on the bus until they got back. 

I wasn’t sure if this was a night where Patrick and I were going to be best buds and bond or if this was a night where he’d be on his computer skyping with Elisa and I’d be on my phone mindlessly browsing Twitter or something. It depends on his mood. As much as it pisses me off to watch him move on with his life and not intentionally rub it in my face, I don’t say anything. Why? Mostly to keep the waters calm. Also, because I’m sure it’ll come up later when I’m pissed about something or another and I might as well let my feelings brew and not let them surface.

I’d taken a quick shower and sat down in my bunk. Patrick walked in the bus on the phone. He was finishing up some phone call but I couldn’t tell who it was. He hung it up and made some goofy face at me before sitting on Andy’s bunk across from me.  
“Someone’s super energetic from just performing for an hour under sweaty lights,” I said. He laughed scratching his forehead.  
“Yeah, I don’t know. Some nights I’m dead after a show, others I’m pumped and want to run a marathon,” he said. I smiled. He stood up and went to grab a water from the fridge. He took a sip and then pointed at me. I mimicked his gesture and he smiled while drinking his water.  
“We’re finishing this song,” he said frankly. I rolled my eyes.   
“Oh come on, Patrick. We worked on it for a good half an hour today and I don’t have anymore energy to exert tonight,” I whined. He stared at me.  
“Come on. Grab your notebook. We’re doing it,” he stated. I sighed and pulled my notebook from off a table.   
“I’m telling you, I don’t have anymore lyrics in this notebook that are worthy of being in a song,” I said. He looked up at me from our draft.  
“All your words are worth it. Don’t ever think otherwise. Some just don’t work in a song that we have worked out,” he said. I bit my lip.   
“You’re just saying that…” I said quietly.  
“No, I’m not. I can guarantee I’m not. You’re talented, Pete. No matter what you think. You have talent. Natural, non-imitable, talent,” he assured. I breathed out.  
“Well, shucks, thanks. Didn’t know this was my day to get showered with compliments,” I said making a goofy voice. He rolled his eyes but he was laughing.  
“Come on. I have faith in us! We can do this!” he emphasized.   
“You sound like some 90s motivational speaker,” I laughed. He giggled at this.  
“We’re doing this. Let’s do this!” he said making a fist and throwing it in the air.  
“You’re the coolest, Patrick Stump, did you know this?” I asked.   
“Oh, of course. My mom tells me everyday,” he said confidently. I grinned at this.

Patrick was skimming through my notebook while I began jotting ideas and potential lyrics. I had that stupid warm fuzzy feeling that you get when you’re with that person you know you’re suppose to be with. No. _No. You can’t do this! You have a girlfriend and a child on the way. For God sake’s, Pete. Get a fucking hold of yourself._ I realized the thoughts I’d been having but I’d written something unconsciously while I was daydreaming. Patrick looked over at me.  
“Hey, what’s that?” he asked. I glanced at what words I’d tattooed to the page in front of me.

_You were the song stuck in my head  
Every song I’ve ever loved  
Played again and again and again  
And you can get what you want but it’s never enough  
And I’ll spin for you like your favorite record…_

Shit. See what happens when I’m not thinking? I looked at Patrick from the corner of my eye. His cheeks were red. I couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed or angry. _Did he know these were for him…? Does he think they’re for her? Patrick, no…don’t get the wrong idea…You idiot. You can’t tell him they’re for him._ Shut up, shut up, shut up. Patrick’s oblivious but he’s not that oblivious. He’d probably put the pieces together. The lyric he’d seen earlier that day and these now. Fuck, I was screwed.  
“Did you write those for Meagen?” he asked somewhat slowly. My brain was panicking. I nodded.  
“Yeah,” I lied. He bit his lip and nodded as to reassure himself that these weren’t for him. That we hadn’t spent many days bonding over and listening to records. That we hadn’t been together.   
“Those are nice. I like them. I think we should use them,” he said trying to lighten the mood. I stared down at that page. _Curse you, you fucking obnoxious unconscious._  
“I mean, if you want,” I said nonchalantly. He nodded, pursing his lips.  
“Yeah. I think that’s exactly what this song needed. Let’s construct a melody to go with it,” he said trying to sound occupied. I wasn’t really sure what I was suppose to do. He was lying to himself. It was easier. Why face the truth? Why would anyone face the truth? Obviously, I wasn’t gonna say anything, although I wanted to.

There was this awkward silence after that. Patrick was pretending that he wasn’t flustered by this. He didn’t lift his eyes from the page of chords he’d drafted. I sat back and played things on my bass to try and pass the time. Finally, he put his pencil down and picked up his guitar.   
“So this is what we have,” he said quietly. He began to play and sing what we had. I nodded to the silent beat that was keeping him in time. I listened to the set up parts Patrick had put into Garageband to mimic what other things were going to be in the song when we actually recorded them. This song really had come together. It’d been bothering us for a couple months as we couldn’t figure out what the fuck this song needed to be perfect. As much as I wasn’t really pleased with my lyrics going in there, I let them be free.

Patrick finished and finally looked at me. I took a breath and nodded. His face lightened and turned into a small grin that he was trying to hide. He always got so giddy when we finished a song.   
“Yeah?” he asked. I chuckled.  
“Yeah, Stump. It’s good. I like it,” I said. He looked down at his feet and continued to smile.   
“Sweet, I’ll show it to Andy and Joe later and then we can send mark it as done,” Patrick said trying to contain his excitement.  
“Oh come on, Patrick, let it out. We both know you’re bursting at the seems with happiness to be done with this song,” I teased. He laughed and then jumped up and down like a child. He gripped me and pulled me into a hug.  
“This is great! I told you we’d finish the song! Go team us!” he cheered. He hugged me so tight my breath was taken away. I laughed as I choked on air. I wrapped my hand around his back.   
“You’re such a nerd,” I said. He giggled, still jumping and shaking. I loved his energy. I wish I could be as excited about him. Song writing was wonderful for me. It’s therapy. It’s passion. I love it. I guess it’s just different when your words, confessions, and thoughts are being projected out into the world instead of someone else’s. Patrick composes and everything so he really doesn’t have to worry about his lyrics being sucky or not. He reeked of innocence and I wished I could envelop all of it and hoard it to myself. Unfortunately, when you become broken, you lose it all and can’t regain it unless you lose touch with reality. As much as I’ve tried, I remain in the real world.

Patrick pulled off of me and slapped my arm.  
“Shut up,” he said laughing.   
“You know what, just for that, you get punished,” I said taking his fedora from off his head. I plopped it on mine and he lunged at me to get it back. I stopped walking and put my arms out to shove him away. He ended up tackling me to the floor. We wrestled to have possession over the hat. Patrick suddenly reached his fingers around my arm and I gripped his wrist with my hand tightly. He narrowed his eyes and wriggled his hand out of my grip. I tried to push my feet up onto his chest but his shoved them down and pushed my hands on either sides of my head. His knees were straddling my legs. We were both breathlessly laughing.   
“When did you get so strong?” I asked.   
“Hey, I lift sometimes. Check out my killer guns,” he said trying to flex his muscles without letting go of my arms. I laughed. His eyes were glued to mine as we tried to regain our strength and breath. Unfortunately, my stomach and lungs were making it impossible for me to do that. I felt this knot begin to wrench in my gut as I stared up at Patrick. His eyes were so impossibly blue that I’m not sure if they were fucking real or not. I was losing myself within him as cliche as it sounds. Patrick realized what he was doing and then let go of my arms before taking the fedora off of my head. He stood up and began brushing off his shirt. I rolled my shoulders before following him off the ground.  
“I let you win,” I said trying to break the ice again. He rolled his eyes.  
“Okay, I’ll let you think that,” he said sarcastically. I patted his cheek gently before promptly going in the bathroom, closing the door, and jacking off as quietly as I could for ten minutes.


	3. Chapter 3

Later that night, I heard Andy and Joe creep in the door. Joe was wasted and Andy was helping him be quiet although that didn’t seem to be working well. I pretended to be asleep as I watched Andy lay Joe down in his bunk and then curl up in his own. I snickered quietly at Joe’s apparent wetness. Whether that was beer, sweat, or piss on his shirt was fucking hilarious. Andy knocked out as soon as he hit his mattress. Unfortunately now, I was going to have a hard time falling back asleep. When it comes to insomnia problems, I have both problems falling asleep and staying asleep. I know, lucky me, right? 

I stared across watching Joe twitch in his drunk dreams. I occasionally switched to Andy. He was still like a log but made occasional weird breathing sounds. I couldn’t tell if he was dreaming or talking or what. It sounded like some creepy kind of whispering. Of course, I wasn’t about to get up and wake him up and be that asshole. As I was watching my bandmates sleep (as creepy as that sounds I promise I’m not like that), I saw a light flicker on the wall across from me. I looked down and saw it coming from Patrick’s bunk. I peeked my head over the edge to see Patrick with his headphones in working on something on his computer.  
“Psst,” I said as loudly as I could without waking Andy. I waved my hand rapidly. Patrick noticed this and flinched. He threw a pillow at me.  
“Jesus fucking Christ, Pete, you scared me. Don’t fucking do that,” he hissed. I rolled my eyes while laughing. I hopped off my bunk and crawled into his.  
“What are you working on?” I asked.  
“Sure, you can come in here. Be my guest,” he said sarcastically. I looked at him expectantly.  
“I was just listening to some music while reading,” he said briefly.  
“Reading what?” I asked.  
“A book,” he said. I looked at him dumbly.  
“Who reads a book on their computer?” I asked making a face.  
“People do!” he said defensively. I stared at him. He sighed.  
“I was reading reviews of Pax Am Days,” he admitted.  
“Why?” I asked. He shrugged.  
“I don’t know. Andy said something about someone had trashed it. I was curious. Big mistake,” he said.  
“Why, what’d they say?” I said my voice growing a bit more tense.  
“On top of all the criticism, which is fine by the way, I more than welcome it, someone said I don’t believe what I’m singing,” he said glumly. I furrowed my brows at this.  
“Okay, well, that’s bullshit and you shouldn’t listen to it. Who’s to tell you what you do and do not believe. Did you put your heart and soul into that music?” I asked. He nodded.  
“Exactly. That’s all that matters, Patrick. You have to take all the shit people say with a grain of salt. Fuck them. They don’t matter. You matter. And that’s that,” I concluded. He bit his lip and then let out a breath.  
“I suppose…” he said. I shook his shoulder a bit.  
“Seriously. Fuck them. We made good music. I’m proud of it and you should be too,” I said trying to reaffirm him. I saw a small smile begin to form on his face.  
“Alright, alright. Guess I can’t do anything about it anyway,” he said.  
“Right. So, why give it the energy? Focus on whatever revolutionary song you’re about to write or compose,” I said. He smiled at this.  
“I have still yet to write that ‘best song ever’,” he said. I nestled my toes into the corner of his blanket.  
“Do you think we’ll ever get there?” he asked as I flinched my feet back towards myself.  
“Get where?” I asked surprised.  
“You know. Where we write our best song ever. Do you think we ever will?” he questioned. I sat back again the wall and thought for a moment. I began to nod slowly.  
“Yeah. Yeah, I definitely think our best stuff hasn’t come yet. That best song is nestled somewhere in all of us. It just hasn’t been released yet. Why?” I asked. He shrugged, turning toward me.  
“I don’t know. I just wonder sometimes if we’re ever gonna run out. I mean, this is our sixth official album. How many more can we go before the public gets tired of us? When are we gonna get dropped? Can we continue to create and push out great music that we like?” he pondered. I was silent. I bit my tongue as all the questions he’d asked ran in and out of my ears. I tried to search for answers. I was sure that I’d asked myself these questions before. Never had I found any answers to them. Mostly, I shoved the questions deep into my brain where only my extremely tired, drunk, or high self could think about them.

“I mean, I don’t think we can know that. I don’t think any artist or band can know that. They can work really hard on an album and be really proud of it but have it get no recognition or it get completely bashed on by the public. We can’t predict our moves. I’m sure all four of us have enough creativity to last us. We refuel that inspiration every day we experience new things. Sure, it gets tougher to try and come up with new ideas but, all in all, all music is about only a hand full of topics. As for when we’re gonna get dropped, I have no idea. We can’t be sure. Whenever society gets tired of us I guess or whenever we get sick of each other. I hope that’s a while away though,” I said. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes to look away from me. I rested my head on the back of his wall, watching him assimilate the information into his brain. He exhaled and then finally spoke again.

“I guess. It just kinda sucks having all this unpredictability within this career. You know, not knowing,” he explained. Wasn’t that the truth.  
“You’re preaching to the choir, kid,” I replied. He sighed. I closed his laptop and let the darkness fill the bunk. I saw the outline of his head turn to look at me.  
“You need to stop thinking. You’re being like me. Don’t be like me. Overthinking things sucks,” I said.  
“Pete, I’ve been over analyzing things since before we met. Just when I met you, it amplified. For a variety of reasons,” he said vaguely. I smiled in the dark.  
“Well, shows why we’re friends,” I said. He chuckled.  
“I guess it does, doesn’t it? But I hate you, so. This can’t really work out,” he said. I snapped my fingers.  
“Oh darn. Patrick, you’re cutting me deep. I thought we were close, man,” I whined sarcastically.  
“I’m a hell of an actor,” he pointed out. I laughed.  
“Yep, CSI totally proves that,” I said. He shoved me and I laughed.  
“Shut up, fucker. You’re such an ass,” he said almost laughing while slapping my arm. While my skin was stinging from his hands, my heart was happy and full. Shit.  
“I’m kidding. But seriously. Stop over thinking things. Being up in the wee hours of the morning doesn’t help that either,” I stated.  
“Wee?” he asked. I could tell he was smirking.  
“Yes, wee. I can use fancy words,” I defended.  
“I don’t think ‘wee’ dictates as fancy but sure,” he said. I rolled my eyes.  
“You’re killin’ me Smalls,” I said. He chuckled.  
“I’m just kidding. I get you’re point,” he said.  
“Good, now try and sleep, kay? Don’t need an exhausted lead singer tomorrow,” I said.  
“Okay,” he agreed. He pushed the laptop to the edge of the bunk and began to make himself comfortable. I sat there awkwardly not knowing what to do. I wasn’t going to be able to sleep still, but I wasn’t about to keep him up.  
“Do you…mind if I just sit here for a while? I wasn’t able to sleep and you know, I can make sure you’re keeping your promise and actually sleeping and not getting distracted,” I said. Smooth, Pete, smooth.  
“Sure. Whatever you want,” he said calmly. I’m sure he didn’t really believe that last part. Regardless, I wasn’t about to go moving.  
“Thanks dude. Night,” I said.  
“Night, Pete,” he said beginning to sound sleepy. 

About an hour later, I was still in his bunk. I had just begun to feel tired. I hadn’t been doing anything except being in this weird dream-like state when you’re awake but in the dark. Hallucinating, I suppose. My brain hadn't begun to calm down whatsoever, it was just beginning to make me exhausted. Patrick had drifted off to sleep and was now curled up in his standard ball position on his side. I couldn’t help myself but glance at him occasionally. I was sharing the bunk with the best and worst thing that had happened to me. 

A couple times during that hour, my head began to slide down the wall and my eyes began to close. I almost had drifted into sleep too many times. I’d never really told anyone this, but my insomnia was much better when I was with Patrick. Don’t get me wrong, there were still many sleepless nights. But a lot of them, Patrick would wake up and either cuddle with me or discuss what I was thinking about. Even if he didn’t wake up, just seeing him there lying next to me was enough to get me through the night sometimes. Having a constant. Having someone who loved me. Someone who thought I was enough. Not just another eyeliner wearing freak who writes poetry and gets his nudes leaked. Not some stupid kid searching for attention. 

How could I let the best thing that I’d had leave me? 

There was no denying it now. As much as I’d love to repress it and pretend it’s not there, it is. I still loved Patrick Stump. And I’d never stop.


	4. Chapter 4

A couple weeks later, tour was about to end. It was the final night and then we were back to LA to record the album. We were finishing off Monumentour with Scranton. Such a grand city to end tour off. Sorry, that was rude. Anyway, I hope we live up to their expectations and they have a good time. 

I should be sad that tour is ending. I should, but I’m not. Don’t get me wrong, I am slightly upset that the tour energy will be leaving us soon and we won’t get to hang out with Paramore and New Politics everyday because that’s always fun. But I’m not overly depressed about it ending like I used to get. Well, at least for a while that used to happen. When we were on the road for basically three years, touring got exhausting and then I was always hoping to go home sooner. Now, I didn’t want to get home. It was this weird paradox of not wanting to be on the road but not wanting to be home. I guess I wanted to be home, home. In Chicago. Or around the world somewhere. On a desolate island where I could be alone. Then again, being alone with my thoughts sucks. Sometimes, I do need to go through and sort them out and that’s all I wanted right now.

I didn’t want to be home because I couldn’t face Meagen. I couldn’t lie to her. Not being able to fully devote my heart to her. But I also didn’t want to tell her all of this when she was on the verge of giving birth. I was so fucked. 

All I hope is that this little flourish of feelings gets shoved back into place where they belong. Not like Patrick’s gonna jump out of a marriage for me. I’m sure he doesn’t feel the same for me anyway. Whatever. Life sucks.

It was about three in the afternoon and we were hanging out on the bus waiting for the night to come after sound check. Joe walked out of the bathroom with a Red Bull in his hand.  
“Man, I can’t believe the tour’s over already. Seems like yesterday we just started,” he said thoughtfully.   
“I know right. After this we go back to LA,” Andy said. Patrick looked up from throwing things in a duffel bag.  
“True, but then we get to go record the rest of the record. We get to create again,” he said. Joe shrugged.  
“That’s true. I am pretty stoked to be in the booth again hearing what came out of all this,” he said. I nodded.  
“So, speaking of new music, when were we planning to drop the single?” Andy asked. Patrick froze. He turned around, furrowing his brows.  
“I thought we said in a week. That’s what we said to our managers a couple months ago…” he said slowly. Joe made a face.  
“I don’t remember that at all,” he said bluntly. Patrick looked over at me anxiously as if to help him out.  
“I mean, I vaguely remember talking about that. Just thought that was just plans. I didn’t think we had anything, like, solidified,” I said. Patrick sighed.  
“Okay, well, we can’t exactly do anything about it now unless you guys want to push it back, which, I don’t really want to do,” he said. I looked at Joe and Andy. They looked at each other and shrugged.  
“Whatever, dude. I don’t care. The sooner, the better, I guess. It’ll get them excited for the new album,” Joe concluded. Andy nodded in agreement.  
“Yeah, I think that’s fine. I mean, it’s not like the song isn’t ready or anything,” I said.   
“Okay, good. Just making sure we’re on the same page,” Patrick said relaxing a bit. He turned around to continue throwing things in no particular order in a duffel bag. Joe walked out of the bus to get some air and Andy put his earbuds in. I sat down next to Patrick, watching him pack. He noticed this and glanced over at me.  
“Can I help you find something?” he asked. I pointed to myself and he nodded rolling his eyes.  
“Oh yeah. I lost a Die Hard DVD and an old iPod Classic somewhere. Can you tell me where I can find them or get a new one?” I asked. Patrick sighed laughing, realizing what I was doing.  
“Well, if you really want to buy new ones, aisle 18 is electronics. But I think a certain blonde employee might have snagged your things by accident,” he said. I raised an eyebrow with a grin.  
“Really? Would that certain blonde employee mind giving them back to me? I am in desperate need of them and am offering a reward,” I said. He turned to me and stopped packing.  
“What kind of reward?” he said intrigued.   
“A romantic walk in the park in Scranton somewhere. Maybe some free food somewhere. You know, Rom-Com style,” I suggested. I did this all time while we were and weren’t dating so I was hoping he wouldn’t see it as unusual. I was playing with fire a bit but I didn’t mind if I was gonna get burned. Patrick nodded, contemplating what I’d said.  
“Okay. Sure. Free food is always good. Does the blonde employee get to pick where to go?” he asked. I thought for a moment.  
“Only because I’m feeling generous today,” I said. He chuckled. He reached under his bunk and handed over the DVD before sifting through his duffel bag to lift up my iPod. I took them both and laughed.  
“Awesome. Thanks man. I’ll be sure to rate your customer service 5/5 on Yelp,” I thanked. He smiled.  
“Great, thanks. Really appreciate it,” he said.  
“So, where would the blonde employee like to go?” I asked.   
“How about pizza?” he suggested. I looked at him obviously.  
“Patrick, that’s not even a question. You know I’ll always go for that in a fucking heart beat,” I stated, breaking the fake conversation. He laughed.  
“Oh, I’m more than well aware,” he said.   
“Let me tell Joe. You tell Andy and meet me outside, kay?” I said. He nodded. I walked outside and saw Joe on the phone. I walked up next to him and gripped his shoulders. I whispered naughty things in his ear and he flinched away from me, putting his finger in his other ear. I snickered and waited for him to hang up. He finally did and put his arms up.  
“What the fuck, dude?” he asked, sounding annoyed.   
“Me and Stump are going to get pizza. Want me to bring you back any?” I asked. He sighed.  
“Sure. I’ll have whatever you’re having,” he said. I gave him a thumbs up and sarcastically kissed him on the cheek obnoxiously. He shoved me off him and wiped his cheek trying to hold back a grin.  
“I looooooove you Joe Trohman,” I said making a heart with my hand. He rolled his eyes before walking back into the bus. I laughed and waited against the bus for Patrick to come accompany me. He finally walked off the bus, wearing his signature leather jacket and hipster frames.  
“Wow, for someone who works in a store, you clean up nice,” I said. He rolled his eyes.  
“Don’t discriminate. I can dress myself despite the fact I look like I’m 12,” he said.   
“You’ll be the classiest 12 year old. All the eighth grade girls will want you,” I said. He smiled.  
“I’ll let you know when that happens,” he said turning away from me to call a cab. Even though I shouldn’t have been getting all excited about this outing, I was. 

Eventually, a cab showed up and we went into town to grab some food. We sat down and split a pizza. I occasionally looked up at Patrick and watched him eat. Not for long. I didn’t want him to get weirded out. I just remembered times where I’d have to coax him to eat for ten minutes and he finally would. He’d eat so slowly it was painful. I remember the way he looked at food after he relapsed. So untrusting of something that provides life to you. Ironic, isn’t it? But he was doing better now. He hadn’t relapsed in two years which was really good. He was eating and exercising better now which made him feel better. He was also building more self confidence which was great. I think the solo album really helped him with that. He didn’t feel like he had to hide beneath everything. He could come out of his shell and let the world see him. See him for how great and wonderful he is.

Patrick, unfortunately, did see me looking at him while I wasn’t eating. Apparently, I was being too obvious. Sounds like me. He stopped abruptly in the middle of a bite.  
“What,” he asked, his mouth full of cheese and crust. I shook my head and began to eat again quickly. He set down his piece and stared at me.  
“No, tell me. What?” he asked more firmly. I looked away from him, pretending not to hear.  
“Pete, c’mon tell me,” he demanded, hitting my arm.   
“Hey, that hurt,” I said. He widened his eyes and put his hands up.   
“Why were you staring at me?” he asked a little louder. I inhaled slowly.  
“I was just…I remember the times where you didn’t like to eat,” I said. I immediately regretted letting the words tumble out of my mouth. He sat there not saying anything. He sat back in his seat a bit.  
“And I was just thinking about how much better you are doing. You’ve made so much progress,” I said quietly. He bit his lip.  
“I mean…thanks I guess?” he said awkwardly.   
“Look, I didn’t want it to come out like that. I know it’s a random topic of discussion. Just…I remember when it took so long to convince you to eat. I’d have to talk you through every bite. Watch you and make sure you were actually eating. Now, you can just…do that on your own. No help needed. I’m happy for you,” I explained. He breathed out.  
“I’m not cured in anyway, you know that. But yeah…it is really nice to be able to eat by myself. I’m in a better place,” he said. I could see the trails of a small smile beginning to form on his face. I looked down and started to eat again.  
“What about you?” he asked. I looked up.  
“What about me, what?” I asked.   
“You know, how are you doing? You seem better,” he said. I was having this debate in my head whether to be honest or not. Should I tell him or…?  
“I mean…yeah I’ve been better. Not completely, obviously, but yeah my thoughts have been better. Still here and there I have problems but it’s no where near as bad as they used to be. My insomnia still bothers me sometimes though which sucks but, you know, what can you do?” I said trying to sound nonchalant. He nodded  
“I do wish you’d get some meds for that. Sleep, is in fact, good for you you know,” he said. I smiled.  
“Really? Tell me more, I had no idea,” I said putting my head on my hands. He chuckled rolling his eyes.  
“You know what I mean. You need sleep to function. If you’re not doing that regularly then you’re just fucking yourself over,” he said.  
“I know. I should. Maybe when we get home,” I said. He looked away from me and started eating again. I did the same. He abruptly laughed and I looked up confused.  
“I remember one night when you couldn’t sleep because you were on some new meds and I woke up and asked you what was wrong and you told me you were freaking out because you thought you’d forgotten to call someone and then you were convinced that you couldn’t walk,” he said reminiscently. I cracked a smile at this.  
“Oh man, I’d forgotten about that. It’s kinda blurry for me since those meds were so fucking horrible. They made every fuzzy and so trippy. I hated it. I do remember that though. I was so convinced I couldn’t walk. I remember you were tiredly trying to explain to me that I could walk. You and your sleep logic,” I said. He laughed.  
“I think I told you something like, ‘If you can feel your feet and if you have feet, you can walk,’ because I couldn’t think of anything else,” he said.   
“You win the ‘Explanation of the Year’ award for that logic. Might be a couple flaws with that reasoning but we can work those out,” I said. He grinned, adjusting his glasses.  
“I was worried about you that night but now it’s just funny to look back and be like, ‘wow.’ Can’t believe that was so long ago,” he said fondly. I nodded.  
“Seems like yesterday sometimes,” I said. He looked away and I did too. He began to eat again while I tapped my fingers on the edge of the table. I could feel words trying to force themselves out of my body. My body craved to ask him how he felt about us. I was restraining with all remaining strength and sanity I had considering he was married.   
“You know what we should do?” I asked suddenly. He shrugged and looked at me.  
“I know it’s a bit soon to be planning it, but we should have an album dropping concert. In Chicago. At some small club. You know, back to our roots. Except this time we might actually sell out a show,” I said.   
“We sold out shows in those clubs eventually, Pete. But yeah…I like that idea. It’d be cool to be with some fellow Chicago fans,” he said. I rolled my foot underneath the table.  
“Sure. Do it. We’ll tell the manager when we get back. He can work on getting those details worked out and whatever else. Good idea, Pete,” he said patting my arm. I saluted to him. He rolled his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

We finished lunch and walked through around the sidewalks of Scranton. Not really scenic but it did give us some exercise. We stopped near a park to sit down and relax for a while. Patrick took off his jacket and attempted to cool himself off.  
“Man, it’s fucking hot out,” he complained.  
“Hey, a little sun will be good for you. A little color in your skin wouldn’t be bad,” I said. He looked over at me, brows furrowed.  
“Okay, well, that’s easy to say when you’re tan as hell,” he said. I shrugged.  
“Better than being Satan’s bleached asshole,” I said. He almost choked when I said this. He turned completely red but was laughing at the same time. I had to grin at this and I ended up laughing too. I appreciated when he found me funny, even when I didn’t. He finally caught his breath and wiped his eyes.  
“Pete, you can’t do that to me. I need to be prepared to almost have an asthma attack,” he said with a smile on his face. I looked innocently at him.  
“I’m sorry. My ‘humor’ button tends to switch on at unexpected and inappropriate times if you haven’t noticed. Thought I gave you a contract to sign at the beginning of our friendship that excuses me from saying the wrong thing at the wrong time,” I said. He thought for a second and then shook his head.  
“You know, I would’ve remembered that. You forgot to inform me of that little detail,” he said. I snapped my fingers.  
“That would explain why you’ve gotten mad at me so many times,” I trailed off. He laughed.  
“Yep, that’ll do it,” he said. 

We sat under the tree for a while. We mostly made small talk to avoid any awkward topics of conversation. I could tell when he chose different words to describe things or to try to not have something come up. That whole thing made me slightly uncomfortable because I never thought we’d need to be careful about what we said to each other. I always thought we could be honest and open. Things do change in the blink of an eye though don’t they? A marriage and a pregnancy can do that. 

Patrick began to doze off under the tree. He didn’t really sleep all that much on the bus. Not because he couldn’t, it was because we were always running around and busy every single day. We never really had a day off where we weren’t doing something or we weren’t somewhere. Our sleep schedules were all fucked up and none of us got really any sleep. I was able to function with little sleep because…well insomnia trains your brain to be able to be somewhat awake and aware. 

I found myself watching him. His head rested lazily against the tree, slightly leaning towards his right shoulder. How badly I wanted to nestle my nose next to his temple. I wanted to run kisses down his neck and chest. I wanted to intertwine my fingers in his hand and trace circles on his palms. There’s no way I was going to be denying myself wanting these things. It was easy at first when Patrick was pissed off at me. I could rub it in his face that I was in a relationship that wasn’t with him. I was with a beautiful woman and she was having our child. Unfortunately, that was the petty thing to do and I wish I hadn’t. Mostly because I think that helped convince Patrick that I was okay with where life had gone when I really wasn’t. My life is a game and I’m losing it. 

Part of me wanted to tell Meagen. _Tell her. You’re not being honest with her and that’s not fair to her. After she has the baby, let her know._ But what good is telling her and breaking a relationship when I’m just going to end up single and miserable like I was four years ago? _You could always go balls out and lay your heart on the line. If he denies you, he denies you. Then you get over this and stop being pathetic._ Because I take criticism and rejection so well. Fuck.

While I was questioning and doubting my whole entire existence, Patrick woke up. He stretched his arms up and smiled at me with his eyes closed. I turned my attention toward him and smiled weakly.  
“Have a good nap?” I asked. He nodded, yawning.  
“Yeah, I usually hate naps but sometimes they are refreshing. Especially when you’re running on an energy level of like twenty percent,” he replied.  
“True,” I said. I sat back against the tree and began to smile a bit.  
“You know what?” I said. He looked over at me.  
“What?” he asked.  
“‘Cork Tree’ turns ten next year,” I said.  
“That’s right. It does, doesn’t it?” he said. I smiled reminiscently.  
“God, how time has passed so damn quickly,” I noted.  
“Well, that tends to happen. You know, progression of time and what not,” he explained. I rolled my eyes. Before I could say some witty response, he responded.  
“I know, I know, ‘Yes, I know how time works, smart ass,’” he said imitating me.  
“I don’t sound like that,” I said pushing him playfully. He giggled.  
“You make me sound like some big jock or something,” I said.  
“It’d be an upgrade from your status now,” he said. I opened my mouth and raised my eyebrows.  
“Wow, someone’s feeling sassy after their nap, aren’t they?” I asked. He laughed.  
“I’m just kidding,” he said. I smiled and looked down at my feet.  
“So much has changed since we were that band in 2005. We were so young back then. We had no idea what was going to happen to us. I never expected us to be this big,” I said. He nodded in agreement.  
“Yeah, crazy right?” he said. I breathed out.  
“Here we are. Almost 2015. Sixth album. Kinda scares me,” I admitted. He looked over at me.  
“Really?” he asked. I nodded.  
“Yeah. I don’t know. I already told you the whole instability of this career scares the shit out of me. It just makes me fear the future. I feel like I’m going to be forty and have no fucking clue what to do with myself,” I said. He bit his lip. He shifted closer to me.  
“I mean, yeah, I worry about those things too. I totally get you. But, all of that distracts from now. It takes away your focus on what we’re doing here and now. We’ll get to the future eventually and cross that path when we get there. We can worry about all the ‘what ifs’ we want but why would we when we don’t even know if it’s for certain or not? For now, you should keep your attention on now. You’ll be happier with yourself. At least, that’s what I’ve found,” he said.  
“I guess,” I said quietly.


	6. Chapter 6

After we sat in the park, we headed back to the arena. A couple hours after that, we finished the show and the tour was officially done. I was feeling a fuck ton of mixed emotions and wasn’t quite sure where I stood on this whole thing. Then again, when am I ever sure of anything ever? To celebrate the end of the tour, we all went out drinking. And by all, I do mean all. Paramore, New Politics, and us. We went to some intimate bar that was still open at like one in the morning. And we drank. And drank. And drank. And fucking drank. Well, not all of us drank. Andy kept an eye on us to make sure we weren’t on the verge of dying. Also, Hayley, Soren, and Joe didn’t go too hardcore either. But the rest of us lost it. Shots were everywhere. Empty glasses lined the counter. I could barely see straight. I was so dizzy I wasn’t sure where I was. 

David was the bad influence on us. He kept lining more and more things up for us to gulp down in a heart beat. I was past the point of reason so of course I did as I was told. I took a shot and slammed down the glass on the counter, nearly breaking it. Patrick and Louis threw their hands up while Jeremy was laughing his ass off. Louis grabbed my shoulder and shook me strongly. I didn’t feel too good after that. My stomach was punching me from all the poison that I’d just swallowed.  
“Dude, you should’ve seen yer face. You did that shot likeitwas your job,” David slurred. I tried to smile but my stomach was really starting to hurt me now. Everything was still moving and spinning around me. I gripped the countertop to try and regain my ‘balance’. I saw Hayley pop up next to Taylor and Jeremy to try and convince them to take it easy. They, like me, were beyond reason too and were basically babbling idiots. She was grinning and trying her best to keep from laughing at their lazy excitability. This 5 foot 2 girl took these two jocks by their necks and began to drag them out of the bar to get them some fresh air. Patrick and David giggled.  
“Someone’s in trouble,” David teased. I laughed at this. I’m not sure why but I did. At this point, Andy came over to try and talk some sense into Patrick and David while Joe moved the glasses away from my hands.  
“I think it’s time we slow it down a bit,” he suggested. I blinked slowly to try to clear the dizziness. I didn’t argue with him. My stomach was about to launch itself out of my body any moment and I couldn’t put up a fight. Joe put his arm around my shoulder to help me walk out. Andy grabbed Patrick and took him out too. 

We walked back to the buses and Joe and Andy put us in our bunks.  
“Stay you two. I don’t wanna see you out of your beds when I get back, kay?” Andy said. Patrick nodded and giggled and I smiled at them. I crossed my fingers.  
“I promise,” I said holding the ’s’ for far too long. Andy rolled his eyes.  
“We’ll be back in like half an hour. Just try to get some rest and please don’t projectile vomit on everything,” Joe said half joking and half not. I gave him a thumbs up and my best prize winning smile. Joe giggled and walked outside with Andy. I lied down to try and keep the room from spinning. Patrick immediately slipped out of his bunk and got on top of me.  
“Hey,” he said pinning me down. As strange as I thought this was, I wasn’t about to argue.  
“Hey,” I said back.  
“You’re, like, really drunk,” he said closing his eyes.  
“So’re you,” I said, trying my hardest to enunciate. He leaned down next to my ear.  
“Can I tell you a secret?” he whispered. Goosebumps covered my skin. As fucking wasted as I was, the little ‘this isn’t a good idea’ alarm was going off in my head. But it felt too fucking good. No way in hell I was listening to the voice of reason. I was falling into indulgence’s trap.  
“Mmmm yeah. Lemme hear it,” I said. I could feel him grinning next to my ear as his breath dripped off his lips.  
“I’ve watched you when you change in the morning,” he said. For some reason, this made my dick twitch in my pants.  
“Really?” I hummed.  
“Secretly. That’s why it’s a secret. I secretly enjoyed it and secretly didn’t tell you,” he justified. I laughed.  
“That’s a pretty awesome secret,” I said grinning. All logic was gone at this point. I was lost.  
“I was scared to tell you though. I didn’t want you to be mad or anythin’,” he slurred. I pushed him up a bit.  
“Why would I be mad? I’m like, your best friend. I’m a chill guy. I don’t get mad and like anything,” I explained waving my hands everywhere. He had become quiet and was staring at my lips. I stopped talking and returned the favor. Immediately, our lips collided. My hand grabbed his neck and his hands were working their way up and down my body.  
“Trick…this isn’t right,” the last sober part of me said between his lips.  
“It’s so fucking right,” he said hungrily. He pushed me down again and his kisses became more needy and forceful. He was an animal and it was like every shut up desire he’d forced back was being released all at once. An explosion of passion. The dissolution of any lie we’d told ourselves to not feel these feelings. 

He sloppily tried to pull my shirt off. We had trouble for a couple minutes trying to get it off my head and I ended up giggling while he tried to kiss me and yank the shirt off at the same time. Eventually, he gave up and left it around my neck. 

He began unbuckling my jeans and I did his too. He pulled down my boxers exposing my erection, pre come already leaking. He slicked up his hand and began slowly stroking my dick. I let out a loud moan and my head fell into his shoulder. He began jacking me off, slowly, and then quicker as he felt me relax. My eyes rolled back in my head. My breath was hot on his neck as he quickened his pace. 

His other hand wandered to cradle my balls and it sent a shiver up my spine. An involuntary groan escaped from my chest and he smiled drunkly. My breath was being caught in my throat. He ran his finger over my head and my mouth fell open. I let out a moan of pleasure.  
“Holy…” I breathed out.  
“You like that?” he asked doing it again. I swallowed and nodded. I closed my eyes as I began to lose it. His pace was at it’s fastest now and I couldn’t hold on any longer. I came and it spurted on my chest and his shirt. I was out of breath but the drunk part of me couldn’t not return the favor (how thoughtful). I quickly pulled down his boxers to see his already hard and leaking dick. 

“You dirty boy, Patrick,” I growled. It didn’t take much to get him to come. I gripped his dick a bit too tightly and he almost jumped.  
“Can’t be losing it now,” I said. He leaned back and tried to keep himself from moving. I kept my strokes slow and hard. His face was making this desperate, desire-filled expression.  
“C’mon Pete…” he whined. I gave him a wicked smile and kept up my pace. I quickened just a bit and watched him squirm. I thumbed over his head and he moaned loudly. He almost fell to the bed but regained his balance.  
“Pete…please…” he begged.  
“Wait,” I said. I finally tugged long and slow and he came all over me. He breathlessly fell back to the bed. His eyes were closed. He began to grin like a child.  
“Forgot how good you were at that…” he whispered quietly. I nodded, swallowing. My stomach dropped and I immediately ran to the toilet and ejected all of my guts. My throat and mouth burned from the acid. The poison was eating me up and didn’t care how bad it hurt me. I wiped my mouth and flushed the toilet. I stood up and wobbled around. I shut my eyes tightly for a second and then blacked out.


	7. Chapter 7

I woke up the next morning back in my bunk. I had a massive fucking headache and my eyes were heavy. I turned my head slowly to look and see where Patrick was. He was in his bunk fast asleep. I gripped my forehead. Joe walked by and saw me awake.  
“Oh, you’re up,” he said.  
“Yeah, I’m up,” I said, my voice drained.  
“You and Stump owe me big time,” he said. I furrowed my brows and closed my eyes.  
“How so…?” I asked slowly.  
“I cleaned up you two up before anyone else came in here. Trust me, things have been seen that I need to erase from my memory,” he said. My eyes shot open immediately and I froze. Shit, that wasn’t a dream. It actually happened. Fucking hell.  
“Wait…w…what?” was all I could manage. He rolled his eyes before walking into the bathroom. Fuck my life. I gave a handsy to my best friend. My married best friend. My married best friend who I wasn’t suppose to have feelings for. I prayed to God he wouldn’t remember last night. As much as I enjoyed that, ruefully, I need him not to remember. It would be so much easier if he didn’t. But that was a big chance that I was taking. 

I saw him stirring. He groaned and opened his eyes before immediately squinting them and shutting them.  
“Fuck,” he groaned. I turned away from him and averted my eyes.  
“What did I _drink_ last night? My stomach feels like lead,” he said. I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say anyway.  
“I didn’t do anything too crazy last night, did I?” he asked. I glanced over my shoulder at him and shook my head. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t at all convincing but I didn’t have the energy to try and make up a better lie. No way was I about to tell him the truth about last night. If he didn’t remember, it was for the better.  
“That’s a relief I suppose…I’m going to go shower,” he said quietly before standing up slowly and sauntering to the bathroom. 

I sat there motionless for a few moments listening to the faucet turn on. Trying my hardest not to picture him showering in there. The water running down his pale skin. His fingers mangling his hair while scrubbing shampoo into his scalp. His eyes closed and mouth open in the thick steam emerging from the water. God, it was torture. I couldn’t do this anymore. Thank God tour was over because I had so much shit to work out and not enough time to do it all. 

******

Crying is such a bitch. We all do it. I have no problem with it most of the time. We all need to release our bottled up emotions sometimes and just let it out. What I have a problem with is when I’m trying to be discrete about it and the ugly ass mark it leaves on my face creeps in. That stupidly pathetic look we all get when we’ve just cried. The vulnerability just seeping through our pores and remaining on our faces. Our eyes are puffy and swollen. Tears still lining our eyelids, waiting to either be fought back or let out. Red noses and extremely flushed faces. The uncontrollable wavering of our voice. The unmistakable betrayal of our bodies. It’s like our bodies scream out to everyone else to be noticed. To let everyone know we were upset and need to be dealt with. It’s the only thing away from achieving a perfect disguise of feeling. The thing ripping the mask off and revealing what’s beneath the surface. It sucks.

The only reason I’m saying this is because I’ve had to deal with this on more than one occasion. I’ve never gotten better at mastering the art of ‘masking the way we cry’ face. I can do that with my feelings very well. Except for obvious sadness and crying. Never been so good at bottling up the tears. Once they’re out, I’m gone. 

It’s nearing Christmas now and I’m going to Jamaica soon with the family. It’s kind of perfect timing as well. I told Meagen the truth about not being able to commit to her and she was very upset with me. On top of having Saint around now, everything’s just been so chaotic and stressful and I need to be away for a while. Away, away. It’ll give her time to deal with this while I’m gone and it’ll give me time to figure out what I’m going to do with myself. And Patrick. That too. Maybe I’ll get some relaxing time in. I doubt it. But who knows. 

I’m packing right now and trying not to address the fact that I haven’t actually put anything in my suitcase. I’ve been trying to plan out one outfit for the past half an hour. I’ve just been distracted lately. I can’t focus. I feel…off. Sad probably but I’m not feeling that tinge that it usually gives me. It’s probably a couple layers down in me and isn’t ready to poke it’s ugly head up above the surface yet. 

I sat there rethinking about that last night of the tour. Patrick never did remember what we did that night. I told him that he wanted to go streaking around the neighborhood and he didn't really believe me but he laughed. I said I was just kidding and that I didn’t remember a thing of what really happened that night. Lie after lie after lie. 

I hated lying to him. I hated it. It sucked so much considering the fact that he’s supposed to be my best friend. Best friends aren’t suppose to lie to each other. Then again, I’m not exactly the pinnacle of the perfect best friend. The way I was justifying it to myself was the fact that I couldn’t. It was easier for him not to know. I needed him to move on. I didn’t need him feeling horrible about cheating on Elisa. That was a whole other ship I didn’t want to go on. If he didn’t know, it’s like it never happened. At least, that’s what I wished it would be.

While I continued having a crisis over what clothes I was going to bring on vacation, I got an email from our manager with the fully mixed and mastered copy of the new record. I put it on and listened to it. I had heard it many times in the studio but hearing the completely polished off version of the record was awesome. It was all good until one song. At this particular song, I almost broke down. I paused the recording and sat down on my bed. The fact that Patrick was singing my words and not realizing what they meant. It was heart-breaking. Sure, it hurt while I was writing them and watching him put the songs together but this song was different. It sounded so happy and upbeat while my lyrics were melancholy and poured every ounce of sadness and feeling I had for him into each sentence. I closed my eyes and felt the sadness wash over me. The horrible realization that I’d also probably never get to tell him that this song was for him was another whole level of sadness. 

I needed to get used to this. Life isn’t suppose to be perfect. It’s far from it. Things, a majority of the time, never work out in the way we plan them. We get left with this decent deal. Or at least something we can tolerate. But I don’t want to just tolerate living. I want to blaze my trail the way I fucking want it. Unfortunately, when that involves other people, you don’t get to choose. You throw your dice and let them fall where they may.

After having an existential crisis, I finally ended up jamming a bunch of clothes into my bag. I zipped it up without going through it. I probably should considering the fact that I’m probably forgetting something but whatever. I lied down on my bed. I let out a sigh and let my bones meld into the bed. I picked up my phone and held it between my fingers. I turned it on to see how much time I had to worry about everything before I had to leave for the airport. It was almost midnight and my flight was at six. That meant I had a solid four hours. I leaned over and turned off the light next to my bed. My phone buzzed. It was my mom.

_Excited for this trip? I know I am. Can’t wait to see you! Love you._

I was excited to see my family. I hadn’t seen them in a while. Of course, it’d be hard to explain my situation with everybody. I guess I just wouldn’t mention it.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, my alarm woke me up bright and early. I groaned as I craned my neck away from the pillow. I turned off the alarm and slowly peeled myself from my sheets. I threw on some clothes and drove to the airport. The only good thing about going to the airport this early is that there are no paparazzi around to bother me. I’m sure I’m looking _extra_ fine this morning as well so. 

As I sat in the gate waiting for the plane to start boarding, I realized I had completely forgotten to buy Xanax for the plane. There was no way I was going to not lose my shit. I got so overly anxious and it was the absolute worst. I couldn’t buy any here so I was basically screwed. My heart started racing and I felt the blood rushing through my ears to my head. I felt my face get hot and my chest tensed up. Sweat started to line the back of my neck. I felt like my shirt was clinging to my body and I couldn’t breathe. I pulled the collar of my shirt away from my neck but I still couldn’t catch my breath. Out of sheer panic, I ended up calling the only person I knew that could maybe calm me down. 

“…Pete?”  
“Patrick. Look, I’m sorry for calling so early but I didn’t know what else to do. I know I’m being super pathetic right now but I just…I don’t know what to do. I forgot to get Xanax for the plane and there’s no way I’m gonna be okay and I feel like I’m gonna freak out. I’m already freaking out and I feel like I can’t breathe…” I said quickly.   
“Okay…okay slow down,” he said. I could hear him sitting up and waking up a bit more.  
“Look, you’re gonna be okay. You’re safer in an airplane than you are in a car,” he said.   
“That’s not exactly helping,” I mumbled.  
“Okay. Okay…I’m sorry. Alright, look. You’re going to be perfectly fine, okay? Just breathe for me. Inhale for five seconds and then exhale for five seconds. Do it for me,” he said. I did as he said and filled my lungs with air and then pushed it out.   
“Deeper. Breathe deeper,” he stated. I closed my eyes and focused on getting as much oxygen as I could. I counted slowly in my head. _One…two…three…four…five._ My breathing was becoming more steady and the tensing in my chest was loosening.   
“Good. Now focus on that. Focus on how you are on the ground right now. Ignore everything around you. Ignore that crying baby wherever it is,” he said pointing out the crying child in the background. My mouth cornered into a smile from this.  
“Feel yourself in your seat. Breathe. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay,” he cooed. I continued breathing. My fist relaxed its’ grip on the armrest. I felt the air flow through me and my brain was quieting.  
“Ignore the thoughts in your head. You’re in control. You’re going to be okay. Just breathe,” he said. I slowed my breathing down to a steady rhythm and continued listening to his lulling voice. I felt all the noise around me and in my head start to disappear. Everything was hushed and murmured. The only thing I could hear was the voice on the other end of the phone.   
“Alright? Do you feel better?” he asked. I nodded.  
“Yes,” I said quietly remembering that he couldn’t see me.  
“I’m glad. Now, if you get all freaked out later, just do what I told you. If the noise bothers you, listen to some music. Tune out the world and breathe. You’ll be fine. I know it. You have nothing to worry about,” he reassured. I could hear sleepiness in his voice.  
“Thank you, Trick. I appreciate it,” I thanked.  
“Anytime. Always here for you,” he said earnestly.  
“Really. I mean that,” I said. I could feel him smiling.  
“I did too. Have a safe flight and a good trip. Take a bunch of pictures. Don’t hook up with too many locals and don’t drink too much,” he said. I laughed.  
“I’ll be sure to. Sorry for waking you again. Go back to sleep, busy boy,” I said. He giggled.  
“Bye, Pete,” he said. I smiled.  
“Bye, Trick,” I said before hanging up. 

As I was putting my phone down, the lady came over the intercom and told us to prepare for boarding. I was so grateful of what Patrick had done for me. He was too good of a friend and I didn’t deserve anything he did for me. Comforting me when I whined to him about whatever issues I have. I owe so much that I can’t even make a list of how much I owe him. We know who’s better in the relationship.

*******

I was finding it hard to enjoy Jamaica. As much as I wanted to be on vacation, I couldn’t. I was just distracted all the time. My parents kept trying to draw me into conversations and wanted my attention. I kept apologizing but there was nothing I could do. I tried to nod and be polite and I really did try to focus on what we were doing and the conversations we were having, but I just kept worrying about everything. Unfortunately, your meds can’t always tune out the worries you have. 

I knew this was partially my fault too. I had put all of my problems in the back of my mind so they were bound to seep out eventually. Unfortunately, this was a bad time for them to do so. I mean, anytime is a bad time because I’d prefer not to deal with them at all if possible. But, we’re humans and we can’t do that. Denial can only shield us for so long. Eventually, we have to wake up. I just haven’t been so good at that. 

One day, we were at the beach relaxing (or at least my family was, I was freaking out per usual). I sat there letting my skin bask in the sunlight. Maybe I’ll get struck by a beam of sunlight hard enough that I’ll fry my brain and won’t have to deal with these things anymore. If it was only that easy. If only.

My parents were talking to my aunt and uncle while my cousins were in the water. My grandma was reading a book next to my grandpa who was fast asleep. As I watched all this social interaction go on, I sat in the sand thinking about everything. I dug my toes into the sand and felt each individual grain rub up against my feet. I thought about how much cooler it is under the ground temperature wise. This is where your body goes when you die. Into the cool ground. Eternally settled and decayed. 

I assumed I looked totally anti-social. There was no doubt. My younger cousins had tried to pull me in the water but I told them I’d come in later. I looked at my phone accompanying my side. With cell service no where in range, I felt incomplete. Lost. Deserted and disconnected. Not like I couldn’t live without my phone. I can. But when your heart yearns to be elsewhere, it’s hard not to try and be there in spirit. I wished I could talk to Bronx and see how he was doing. I missed him and wanted to be tossing him in the water and watching him try to teach Saint how to build sand castles and then destroy them. I wished I could try and explain myself to Meagen. Try and tell her that I wanted her to be happy but I also need to make myself happy as well. I wished I could confess everything to Patrick. I wished I could go back and fix everything and perfect it. Be better when I could have. 

I picked up my phone and pulled up a notepad app. I was just feeling miserable right now and I needed to put pen to paper. Or text to notepad. I began typing and retyping random things that popped into my brain. I knew wallowing in my problems and writing about them wasn’t exactly helping. But it made me feel better for the moment. 

New Year’s rolled around. We were out at a barbecue at one of my aunt’s friend’s houses. We were camped out waiting for midnight to happen. It was about 11:30 and the partying had died down for the most part. My cousins were passed out on the couches while everyone else was around a campfire reminiscing. My dad was trying to find any alcohol he could so he could dish it out to everyone to drink once the clock struck 12. My mom was finding any opportunity she could to tell embarrassing stories about me as a child. It would have bothered me more if I wasn’t figuring out what to do for the New Year. I needed some plan. Resolutions if you want to call them that. I don’t really believe in them because they never get done. I needed actual goals that I could accomplish. 

I decided my goals started with making amends with Meagen. Second was be there as much as I could for my kids. Be the best dad I could. Third was make the best music I could. Cooperate with the band and continue to put out creatively engaging and challenging content. Fourth was be in better control of my thoughts. I knew I had come a long way from years ago. But there’s always room to improve. I’m also not perfect and I’m a mess. A maniac. Besides be happy and eat better and all those generic ones, my last and fifth goal was to lay everything out for Patrick. Lay all my feelings on the line, wear my heart on my sleeve and figure everything out. Whether that means we end up together or not, I needed to deal with it. 

It was two minutes till midnight and my dad had finally found champagne. He was quickly handing out glasses and pouring a bit for everyone. My mom went to wake up my cousins while they whined that they were tired. I took my glass and gave a weak smile to my dad. He patted my shoulder and looked at me.  
“I’m proud of you,” he said earnestly. I nodded at him. He walked away and I sighed. I looked at my phone. 11:59. I heard everyone start counting down the seconds to the new year. I slipped away into the house momentarily. I typed out a text to Ashlee saying happy new year and to tell Bronx as well. I told her to let him know I’d be home soon. I texted Meagen too saying happy new year and that I wanted to talk to her and that I love her and care for her. And finally, I texted Patrick. 

_Happy New Year. I know I’m an hour ahead of you but still counts. I’m in the future. Anyway, I’m glad you’re my best friend. I’m real lucky to have you. Xx._

As soon as the clock struck midnight, I sent all of those texts. I heard everybody clinking their glasses and shouting and yelling. I joined back up and drank my champagne before I was hugging everybody. When that I was all done, my phone had two texts. One from Ash and one from Patrick. Ash wished me happy new year as well and she told me she’d tell Bronx. Patrick’s was a bit more sentimental.

_Wow. Don’t get sappy on me now, Wentz. Just kidding. Hey from the past. Hope the future’s pretty rad. I’m stoked to join you in it shortly. Also excited for when you come back to the past in a couple days. I’m lucky to call you my best friend dude. Love you man._

There were so many reasons to be happy. Mostly this was fake hope but whatever. Something to live on temporarily. This year was going to be my year. I was doing things for me. Taking control. Being better. Blazing my trail.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been a while since I posted a chapter. I was on vacation and hadn't gotten a chance to post it. anyhow, this one is long to make up for my lack of posting. enjoy!

I came back to LA about a week later. The boys and I were getting ready to do a couple of album release shows. We were suppose to fly out to London in a couple days to start the shows. Unfortunately, Joe’s mom got very ill and passed away and he wasn’t going to be able to come with us. We managed though and finally made it to the week before the big show. Well, it wasn’t exactly a big show, but it meant a lot to us: The album release show in Chicago. I was beyond excited. I was fucking ecstatic. I had missed Chicago so much I could feel it all in my veins. I’m sure it was going to take me back to when we were first starting out. We used to play in small clubs like Lincoln Hall. The kids jumping and sweating and screaming the words back at us. People bouncing off each other. Utter chaos. It was fun though. It was an experience. Maybe that’s why I prefer the small club shows to the arena shows. Don’t get me wrong, I love every audience we play in front of. I guess I just have more history with the small beginnings than I do with the big endings. 

For this week, we were going to be relaxing for the most part. Getting ready for the shows and stuff. Nothing big. There really was nothing to work on considering we’d just finished an album and it was going to drop this Tuesday. We had already practiced everything we needed for our setlist before we’d gone to London so we were all set. 

I was on my toes though. Me, being the hopelessly desperate romantic that I am, was planning on telling Patrick when we were back in Chicago. I hadn’t been in a while and something was telling me that I needed to say it now. The thought scared the hell out of me and I had no fucking clue how exactly I was going to do it even so. I have the motivation, my execution of my poor ideas suck on the other hand. They cancel each other out and it’s somewhat of a waste of time. Whatever. Die trying, I guess.

This afternoon, I had come back from talking with Meagen. We’d gotten together to discuss things since she’d agreed to talk to me. They didn’t go well, let’s just say. Not like I had planned them to anyway. I got that she was upset. I understood it. I wasn’t giving her a good reason to end this. I couldn’t formulate one because I didn’t _have_ one. It was a gut feeling that I wasn’t happy and that I wasn’t going to be happy like this. It’s hard to explain this to someone. They just don’t get it. 

When I got home, I fell onto my couch and looked up at the ceiling. I stared at the pattern embedded between each inch of space. I felt like I could feel what it felt like if I had actually ran my hands against it. My eyes drifted lazily from one point of the ceiling to the next. I felt every breath I sucked in and pushed out. My fingers began to twitch ever so slightly and my spine began to form to the cushions. My eyes felt heavy. My brain was scattering itself and beginning to shut down. I closed my lids slowly as my vision was dazed. The continuous and mindless observing of the ceiling was lulling me to sleep. I felt myself jerk up when I finally closed my eyes. I felt the world getting further and further away. 

_It was cold. Dark. I was falling. No, I had fallen. I was on the ground. My head cranked to the side and painfully tensed up. I blinked to try and clear my vision. Nothing. I was blind. I had made myself blind. I’d never see again._

_My stomach felt heavy and ached. I ran my hand over it. I was wet. What was this? Water? Piss? No. I suddenly became aware of the foul smell around me. I gagged and my eyes stung as the fumes reached my eyelids. Tears formulated in my eyes and my eyes began to try to see. I could feel my lenses try to focus on something. Anything. A sign. Some sign that would show that I could see._

_I wasn’t sure what time it was. Night probably. It was night when I blacked out. I suppose it could be morning. I’m going off of my lack of vision. I also wasn’t sure of where I was. I was leaning against some cold, hard building. The wind whipped my jacket away from my body. My hand slowly tried to grip it towards me but I was weak. I had lost all feeling._

_My stomach began to twist and turn. A gnawing pain was in both my stomach and in my head. I felt the blood pumping through my ears. The pounding filling my head. I was going to explode. Just blow my head off now._

_I finally coughed and then gagged once again. I leaned my head over slightly and threw up the entire contents of my stomach. I felt the acid singe my throat and tongue. I knew what was coming up. I had put it there. It was suppose to stay there. I can’t even rely on fucking medication for God’s sake._

_I coughed and spat out the vile taste filling my mouth. Tears dripped from my eyes and I was starting to see lights. I squinted. I still couldn’t move. I wiggled my toes in my shoes. They responded. Just making sure I was okay. I probably wasn’t. That’s okay. I was never okay._

_The air was silent. I didn’t hear any cars, nor people. Nothing. Utter desolation. The wind blew past me and tore at my face. I jerked away from the gust and buried my chin in my jacket. I coughed and moaned. I wanted to get up and leave. Walk away. But I couldn’t. I felt like I weighed a thousand pounds and I couldn’t even lift a leg to try._

_Snow. There was snow near me. I felt the cold bite my hand as my body started itself up again. It was fresh. Dry snow. Numbness was beginning to seep into my hand. I was sure my skin was red. I didn’t care. Let it scar me. I have too many scars to count. Visible or not._

_I suddenly heard this buzzing sound I had been unaware of. It had been happening for a couple of minutes now. Something was rubbing up against the rough surface of the ground. I inched my hand around the concrete to try and see what it was. Not the smartest idea. Could be a scorpion or something. Who am I kidding? Scorpions don’t live in Chicago._

_I felt my hand rest on top of the object. It was my phone. I didn’t know who it was. My vision was still blurry and everything was way too bright. From black to white. Polar opposites and exactly what I didn’t need._

_I guess I should flip it open right? See who’s calling? Probably no one of importance. I was also too selfish right now to give whoever the hell this is the ‘pleasure’ of hearing my voice. If I don’t deserve my voice, they deserve it even less._

_The whole statement about when you lose a sense and your others heighten is somewhat of a lie. Maybe it takes a while. I don’t know. I couldn’t see shit but I heard someone calling out somewhere. I turned my head to try and see (stupidly) if I could find where they were. I dare not respond. I don’t need anyone seeing in the state I’m in right now._

_The voice began getting louder and closer. I hoped I was concealed somewhere. Maybe in some alley or something. Under an over pass or beneath some rocks or something, I don’t know. I saw a shadow begin to block the extreme light in my vision. It was a tiny black spot that was growing. They were coming toward me. I prayed that it was some bystander that wasn’t looking for me. Please God, if you care about me whatsoever, which I know you don’t, just this one time don’t let them find me. Take me. Be done with me. I’m cast aside anyway._

_I heard the person start running. I heard their shoes grinding up against the ground. The slap sound it made when the material slapped the ground. I closed my eyes. Maybe they’ll think I’m asleep. Or dead._

_I heard the person call out my name desperately. Of course God couldn’t give me what I want. Not even one time. I recognized the voice but my brain wasn’t making the connection. Still soggy from the pills.   My mouth was dry and craved water. My stomach was still rocky and I could feel it about to heave everything up again. Betrayal and rejection from my own body. Thanks._

_“Oh thank God. Holy shit. Pete. Oh my God. I…Pete,” the voice said. It was sweet. Panicking, but sweet. Soothing. I’d heard this voice a million times in my dreams. Lull me to sleep. Let me fade away now with this voice._

_I felt the voice grip me by the shoulders and shake me. My eyes opened and squinted again. I saw a shape of a person in front of me but I still couldn’t distinguish any other details._   
_“Pete, please. Are you okay? Let me help you. Oh…oh my God. Shit, shit, shit,” the voice said. The voice made an obscene noise. They probably noticed the smell. That, or something else. I wasn’t quite sure._  
 _“You’re bleeding. Shit, you’re bleeding,” the voice said quickly. They pulled me toward them and put their hand on my lower back. Pain immediately shot through my body and I let out a yelp. I became aware of the extreme pain leaking from my back along with however much blood pooling out of it._  
 _The person grabbed the phone from grip quickly and dialed someone._  
 _“Yes, I need help here. My friend tried to overdose and he’s totally dazed…no he’s not responsive. I’m not sure what he took I just got here…We’re at the corner of Grace and Fremont…Okay…please hurry,” they said. They hung up the phone and gripped me tight. My vision was beginning to clear but was cloudy now. I had spots all over my retinas that I couldn’t clear._  
 _“I know this hurts. Just hold on for me, Pete. Please. Please be okay. Oh God, please let him live,” the voice sobbed._

_The fact that I had to just trust that this person wasn’t crazy or something was inevitable. Hopefully I knew them. They obviously knew me. I didn’t need attention. Please. Get it all off of me. I’m enough of a whore anyway._

_I felt my head lean against this person’s shoulder. My nose fell onto the top of it gently. I recognized the smell. I could recognize that smell anywhere. Lavender laundry detergent and him. Patrick. Of course. I’m an idiot that I didn’t get it sooner. How come I couldn’t hear the voice? I knew it was him but he sounded foreign. I couldn’t connect the dots._

_I tried to make my mouth move to say something. I couldn’t. I was limp. Lifeless. There was nothing left. Just this body. My soul was so close to leaving my body. Just knock me out and I would have been gone. No questions asked._

_The only thing I could manage to muster up was this sigh. I felt his head move to look at me. He stroked my forehead with his other hand.  
“Please. For fuck’s sake God, fucking don’t take him. Not now. I…I can’t,” he cried. His voice was desperate. He was shaking. Those damn shakes. Panic shedding from his body. He wasn’t even the one suffering at the moment. Well, that’s not true I guess. He’s fucking losing his mind over me. Which I think is ridiculous because it’s me. He has so much more to live for. What am I?_

_I felt the drops of his tears stain my cheek. I opened my mouth to breathe and ended up hacking hard and dryly. He held me steady as I released every breath I’d taken.  
“Pete…please. Listen to me if you can hear me. I love you. I…I know I like never say it but I love you so fucking much. I know things haven’t been going too well and I’ve been distant since everything’s happened but I still care about you. You can’t leave me here, Pete. Not now. It’s too soon. I need you. God I fucking need you, please, oh God please…” he moaned. My eyes opened lazily again and I finally saw a very blurry version of him. He looked like he’d just woken up but it was Trick nonetheless. I looked up and saw the bright sun blaring down on me. I saw blue and red lights approaching. Patrick turned around his head and was pushed out of the way by some paramedics. One of them shining a light in my eyes, another taking my pulse, two others lifting me onto a stretch. _

_My hand fell to my side. Patrick gripped it tightly as they loaded me into the ambulance. I barely saw Patrick try to get onto the ambulance when a paramedic stopped him. I wanted to get up and fight. I wanted him here with me but I also didn’t want him here. He’d seen me in the lowest point of my life. Never did I want to get up. There’s more honor in leaving now then there is getting up from here. Let me drown in the light. My vision started to black out again and I faded out._


	10. Chapter 10

My eyes jolted open. I was shivering. I was both cold and hot. My body was lined in sweat. I ran my hand over my forehead. I tried to steady my breathing since my heart was going about a hundred miles an hour. I closed my eyes tightly to make sure everything was gone. I opened my eyes. I was still here. It was 2015. I could move my body. No restraints. 

At that moment, I lost it. I broke down sobbing. This rarely happens but when it does, I can’t control it. It’s like something in me snaps and lets out every sad thought and repressed emotion I’ve ever had. But this was especially fucking horrible. I’ve had hallucinations and ‘flashbacks’ if you want to call them that about my suicide attempt. It haunts me. Probably will for the rest of my life. 

The scary part about all of this is that how _real_ it feels. I’m there. I’m physically there. I can feel when Patrick touches my bleeding back, the extreme brightness of the sun glaring down at me, the snow stinging my hand. Everything. And when it happens, I can’t stop it. I go through it and suffer every time. And every time it happens, I wonder if I’m not going to wake up.

I think that that’s going to happen to me when I die. I’ll fall asleep, dream about that moment, and then I’ll actually disappear. I won’t wake up. I’ll be gone. What I wished for will have come true. And that fucking terrifies me. When will it happen? Why do I think about this? I can’t. I don’t want to relive it. I acknowledge the fact that it happened but I can’t think about it. It’s too painful. Painfully real. Painfully present. Painfully existent.

My eyes dripped profusely and I let out ugly cries and sounds. I curled up into a ball on my couch. I’m sure I looked utterly pathetic right now but I was glad no one was around to see me. Everything was crashing down on me now. This black hole of hollowness was forming in my stomach and pulling everything in. Emptiness was consuming me. I was confused, scared, and I felt so fucking helpless. I clenched my fists so hard I felt my palms begin to cry ‘uncle’. My fingernails punctured my skin and let the blood slowly start to seep out of my hands. I was crying so hard it was basically like I was having an asthma attack. I couldn’t breathe. When I’d inhale, it’d immediately exit me and ask for more. 

It makes me question my reality. My choices. I wonder if anyone ever thinks back to a horrible day like that. I feel like most people would just lock it up in some mental chest in their brain that they can’t ever access. You know, like those people who don’t realize something happened because their brains block it out to keep them from experiencing pain. I need that. But as we’ve found out, my brain likes to toy with me. It’s got me wrapped around its’ finger. 

My tears began to slow down after twenty minutes and I was left lying on the floor. My breathing was beginning to slow down. I relaxed and uncurled myself. I laid there motionless. My brain was both thinking and not thinking at the same time. Filled with thoughts and empty. I was exhausted and all I wanted to do was close my eyes. I was too scared to do so though. I couldn’t take the chance of falling back into that curse. I’m sure I wouldn’t since it’s hard to fall back into dreams. Still. 

I laid on the floor boards and began to reevaluate everything. Am I that same person I was then? Sure. I’ll always be that person. That part of me is me. It’ll never leave me. Have I changed since that day? Of course. I’ve improved. I’ve worked on my happiness. I certainly didn’t think I’d ever see past that day when I was in that moment. Even before then, I never thought I’d see past 27. I was sure I was a goner. Lost. Insane. Psychotic. Fortunately, things do get better. It may take fucking forever, but they do. 

I’m really not sure how I ever got out of that mindset. It’s a bit of a blur. I’m sure I knew back then. I think my body has actually shielded itself from pain. It doesn’t want me to remember those days. I don’t blame myself. Those days sucked. There isn’t immediate gratification with meds and therapy. It’s hours of rewiring your brain and trying to stop fucking rewrite the past. Days upon days of trying medication to see which combination of magical pills will help you function and keep the thoughts away safely. Pills never do take the thoughts away. Only you have that power to keep them away. That, or you have to work through them. That’d be the smarter thing to do. Not sure I ever did that.

Nonetheless, I am human. I’m alive and here. Maybe not well. Perhaps not sane. But none of us are really sane, now are we?

I felt my chest rise and fall more steadily as the minutes past. My breaths kept getting caught in my throat occasionally and I’d make an odd choking noise. My eyes hurt and were swollen. I was doing my best not to close my eyes. _Think of something better. You’ve gotta stop wallowing in this pit of sadness. Get up or at least take your god damn mind off of this. So I did._

I wasn’t asleep. That was for sure. I wasn’t going to sleep tonight. I was daydreaming, I guess. I thought back to the day we were at our first real show as a band. I closed my eyes to try to envision it clearly. I was taking a risk of falling back asleep but I was really concentrating. _Remember that day._

That day was so fucking hot. We had booked some small festival opening for nobodies. We were in fact nobodies in a period of time. I know, I can’t believe we’re this big either. It was held in Indianapolis and we’d been in the van for hours. I’d been driving and I remember how much the guys were complaining. Well, Joe was bitching. Patrick was sweating too much to be saying anything. Andy was trying not to focus on the heat but he was occasionally yelling at Joe to shut his mouth.  
“Trohman, shut the fuck up. Quit being a bitch about it. We all get it’s fucking hot. Maybe if you’d have fixed the A/C in this fucking van, we wouldn’t be having this problem right now,” Andy snarled. Joe turned around and threw Andy a dirty look but didn’t say anything. I glanced at Patrick in the rearview mirror.  
“Patrick, I’m dying just looking at you. Take the jacket off, won’t you? I’ll pay you,” I said. He looked up from beneath his baseball cap.  
“I’m fine, Pete. I swear,” he tried unconvincingly. Joe turned to me and I made a face. He rolled his eyes.  
“Seriously, Stump, lose the jacket. You’re gonna die of heat stroke and we’re performing with or without you,” he said. Patrick sighed and begrudgingly pulled his jacket off. Andy threw his hands up sarcastically. Patrick swatted at Andy’s chest. Joe lied down across the van’s seats and closed his eyes.  
“Pete, do you mind stopping somewhere? I’m actually going to pass out from dehydration soon if we don’t restock on water and take an A/C break soon,” Joe asked as politely as he could. I sighed.  
“We’ve still got another two hours on the road. We can’t be late for this. We’ve got shit and stuff to set up when we get there. The gig starts in two and a half hours. Can’t it wait?” I asked. I heard three groans from the back. I rolled my eyes and let out an audible grunt. 

I pulled over at the nearest gas station. Joe decided to fill up the van while Andy, Patrick, and I went into the store. As soon as we entered, all of us sighed with relief when we felt the cool breeze flowing from the vents. Andy immediately went grab us bottles of water while Patrick and I browsed the junk food section. I picked up a bag of nuts and chucked them at Patrick.  
“Eat my nuts,” I said winking. Patrick rolled his eyes and put the nuts back.  
“What, you don’t think I’m funny? Come on, that took me a solid five seconds to come up with. Give a guy some credit,” I joked. He didn’t say anything and continued staring at the racks in front of him.  
“Okay, Trick, what’s up?” I asked staring at him.  
“Nothing,” he said shrugging. I made an annoyed face and pulled him to look at me.  
“You know I don’t believe that shit,” I stated.  
“Come on, I don’t want to make a deal out of it. It’s nothing. Fucking drop it,” he said. I stared at him and he finally broke.  
“Okay fine. Why'd you have to make the biggest deal over my jacket?” he asked. I looked around the room.  
“I…didn’t…” I said slowly.  
“Oh come on. I saw the way you looked at Joe,” he said bluntly. I sighed.  
“Look, Patrick,” I started. I looked around the room and turned back to him.   “We both know about your…issue…” I said slowly and with a hushed voice. Patrick shot me an annoyed face and looked away from me.  
“Don’t do that…I just care about you. I don’t need my best friend/bandmate/future husband to be dying of heat stroke. Your body is fine, Trick. You don’t need to be insecure,” I said.  
“You know it’s not that easy,” he mumbled.  
“I know. But please, for me just keep the jacket off for now. You can put it back on when it’s not sweltering outside,” I suggested. He crossed his arms and looked down at his feet.  
“I don’t know…” he said uneasily.  
“Joe’s gonna drive this next stretch. I’ll sit in back with you. If I can distract you, will you not? You’ll forget how hot you are. You won’t even notice that you’re not wearing the jacket. I promise,” I said earnestly. He sighed.  
“Okay,” he said. I smiled and gave him a quick hug.  
“God, you’re the worst. And you reek, man,” he said.  
“Because you smell like roses, Stump,” I stated. He laughed. 

The next couple hours consisted of both of us eating Doritos in the back of the van while watching Andy sleep and Joe drive. To piss off Andy, we did annoying things to him while he slept. I’d gently touch the tip of his nose like a fly had landed on it and he’d flinch every time. Patrick would do the same to his feet. Eventually, Andy rolled over and punched us both in the arm.  
“I’m glad you both are a fucking team and working together on this. Makes sense why you guys are a fucking couple since you two are so fucking annoying,” he groaned. I laughed. After pissing Andy off, we moved to Joe. Well, not so much we as more as I. I kept critiquing his driving and Patrick would make stupid impressions of celebrities and do them right next to Joe’s ear. At which point we both got a slap on the arm and we almost veered off the road a couple times. 

When we’d gotten to the festival, it was great. The crowd may not have known our songs but they were into us. Patrick was pretty confident on stage despite not being in a heavy jacket and sweating his ass off. Nobody gave a shit though. We were all a mess. Kids screaming into microphones begging to be looked at but all of us were a sweaty heaping mess. Patrick almost lost his swagger when some drunk guy almost walked on stage. He may or may not have thrown a shoe at us. At which point I went upstage and almost lost my shit. Joe followed me though and told me to calm it down and that it wasn’t the time. Sometimes I do regret that I hadn’t started something. I know it’s immature of me or whatever. 

After the show, we hung around the area. It was kind of run down but we didn’t mind it so much. We packed up all of our gear and talked to some fans who’d seen the show. They told us we sounded great and we thanked them. They suggested some random diner for us to eat at down the street so we did. We all got burgers, Andy and I bought beers for Patrick and Joe and we all ate harmoniously. Well, except for when Patrick and Joe decided to arm wrestle at the table and spilled all of our drinks over. The waitress almost flipped shit but she was as polite as she could be. It was obvious she was annoyed. We didn’t care. 

We left the diner and walked around till we crawled back in the van to sleep for the night. Andy and Patrick took the bench seats and Joe took the floor. I relaxed in the driver’s seat. It wasn’t all that comfortable but hey, that’s what life is like on the road. It was still unbelievably hot out but none of us noticed. We opened all the windows. I’m surprised we didn’t get robbed or anything. I listened to the quiet hum of the highway near by as I stared out at the vacant streets. I noticed Joe start to snore and Andy woke up slightly and began to shove his face over. I cracked a grin but didn’t say anything. Patrick was twitching in his sleep per usual. He was sweating still but it didn’t seem to be bothering him. I leaned over and stroked his forehead gently. I saw his lips corner into a smile. This, in return, made me smile like an idiot. I took my hand back and drifted off to sleep shortly after that.

That was a great day. For so many reasons. It was just so simple. Even though it was miserably scalding, those were the good ol’ days. When the worst we’d fight about was whose turn it was to drive or who had to lug all the amps to the stage. Those were the better days. These days now are fine. I just think being young and naive is a lot easier in some circumstances. We didn’t know our potential. There wasn’t a thought of what we could be. It was just what we were. No pressure to create and put out music to satisfy everybody. Now it’s just really fucking overwhelming. And that scares me.


	11. Chapter 11

I got up from the floor, wiped my nose, and pulled off my shirt. I forced myself to eat a banana. I hadn’t eaten all day and I needed something to get my mind averted from everything. I chewed each bite slowly and thoughtfully. My face felt droopy and my eyes heavy. My back ached and my palms still uttered complaints about the open cuts in my hand. Not now. Later.

I walked to my bed and fell on it face first. I sighed and rolled my head over to look at the time. 7:16. It was too early to go to bed. I was still fearful of the outer workings of my dream. I heard a knock on the door and the buzzer go off. I groaned. _No. Go away whoever you are. Can’t you see I’m sulking? God, who the hell is coming to my house randomly._

I stood up and walked to the door. I pulled it open and was surprised to see Patrick. He made a face as he saw me shirtless and sweaty.  
“Been working out?” he asked.  
“Um, sure,” I lied. I let him in and closed the door slowly.  
“Not saying I don’t love that you’re here, but why are you here?” I asked bluntly. My filter wasn’t exactly on. I was tired and depressed. My mind was going to say whatever it wanted.  
“Have you listened to the record yet?” he asked without answering my question.  
“Yeah, I listened to it before I went to Jamaica. I thought it was pretty good,” I said tiredly scratching the back of my neck. He nodded.  
“I…um…I had a question,” he said awkwardly. Whatever it was, I was too exhausted to deal with this shit right now.  
“Which was?” I asked. He rubbed his fingers and then his hands on his legs.  
“Did you…did you really write those songs for Meagen?” he asked slowly. I bit my lip.  
“And the ones you’re talking about are…?” I wasn’t about to start jumping to conclusions. That never gets me anywhere.  
“Does it matter? Did you write them for her?” he pressed. I exhaled sharply.  
“And what if I say yes? You gonna get pissed at me for moving on with my life even though you can move on with yours?” I stated. He was silent.  


“I just want to know…I need to know,” he said quietly. I was getting sick of him playing the pathetic one. So, I pulled the trigger accidentally.  
“No. Okay? No. It’s not. They’re not,” I said tersely. He wasn’t looking at me.  
“Who do you fucking think Fourth of July is for? Hm? How fucking oblivious can you be? Have you even _listened_ to it?” I demanded. He was making a painful expression. I wasn’t sure if he was going to cry or if he was just embarrassed and disappointed. I didn’t blame him. I was making an embarrassing scene. I began quoting lines from it.  
“‘I’m sorry every song’s about you, the torture of small talk with someone you used to love’? ‘My nine to five is cutting open old scars again and again till I’m stuck in your head’? Nothing? None of those made any connections or set of a little light in your head?” I said demeaningly.  
“You know, my first thought whenever you write a song is not to just jump the gun and say it’s about me, okay? I’m not so self-absorbed like you are,” he shot back.  
“At least I have the sensibility to know when stuff like this happens. The only way I could have been more obvious was is I was holding a fucking sign with your name on it,” I said. He closed his eyes.  
“Do you mean it? Do you mean everything you said?” he asked. He opened his eyes and looked at me. I looked away trying to blink back anger and tears.  
“Yes,” I whispered. I didn’t hear any response. I couldn’t turn around and look at him. I needed to keep whatever remaining pride and dignity I had left. The silence was unsettling. I wasn’t sure what I was suppose to say or do. I was frozen. I couldn’t move. Stuck in time. 

After an unnerving thirty seconds, I heard him sigh and begin to walk away. He opened the door and stopped before he went out.  
“I’ll see you at the airport,” he said. He then closed the door and left. What the literally fuck was I suppose to do with that? I considered it a rejection I guess. He didn’t say anything. I’m sure in the time between me saying my answer and him leaving he completely freaked out. Why do I always do this? I can never have these like super nice pre-planned moments. My brain has to jump the gun and ruin everything for me. I’m not good at surprises. I spoil everything.

The rest of the week was really slow. I barely got out of the house. The only time I did was to go pay a parking ticket. I was falling into this wallowing pit of darkness. By this I mean I wasn’t leaving my house, my curtains were shut leaving my house completely dark, and take out boxes were beginning to pile up on the floor. My hair was disheveled every morning and I’d never bother to fix it. I’d walk around my apartment gripping a worn out blanket while I sauntered in my pajamas. It sucks. It wasn’t as bad as the time when I lost a shit ton of weight after Ashlee dumped me. That was a low period in my life. But this wasn’t much better. Drowning my sorrows in Chinese food and old 70s movies doesn’t do shit to numb the pain of anything. Just makes you feel the gut that’s growing on your chest.


	12. Chapter 12

Finally the day arrived to fly back home to Chicago. The boys hadn’t really checked in on me at all during the week. They each had stuff going on. Plus, when you spend every waking moment with three guys, your top priority isn’t to keep in touch when you’re not together. I managed to pull myself out of bed that morning and begrudgingly leave my apartment. I didn’t have a fucking clue on how I was going to face Patrick today. Just do what I always did when we I was uncomfortable: avoid it. Joe and Andy can tell when I do this though because they are fucking smart. It’s annoying. Whatever. I’ll cross that bridge when we get there. 

I got to the airport and saw Joe checking his bags outside. I waved to him as I stepped out of the cab.  
“Joefro!” I called. He turned around and smiled.  
“Hey Wentz. What have you been doing the past two weeks? It looks like you hid in a coffin,” he said. I might as well have.  
“I didn’t get out too much. I had stuff to sort out with Meagen and a bunch of phone interviews and stuff,” I said. He looked and me rolled his eyes seeing through my obvious lie.  
“Look, I don’t know what’s up or whatever, but keep me out of it and don’t get into huge brawls or anything. Save it until after the show,” he stated. God, Joe. Why do you have to be so observant and shit? I saluted to him.  
“Yes, sir,” I said. 

We checked our bags and walked in to stand in line for security. We saw Andy walk in in his sunglasses and sleeveless shirt. Joe chuckled.  
“Watch him get randomly selected,” he teased. He’d throw the security off if he said one word. Who are we kidding though? Andy could pummel the shit out of anyone. He walked over to us and flashed a peace sign at us.  
“Sup guys,” he said. Joe waved his hands at me as if to be presenting me. He pulled up his sunglasses and put them on top of his head.  
“Pete, did you suddenly go vampire on us?” he asked. Joe laughed.  
“I was busy! I couldn’t get out of my apartment. So what?” I defended. It wasn’t totally a lie. I couldn’t. My body wouldn’t let me leave.  
“Seems legit,” he said. Joe nodded sarcastically. I rolled my eyes.   
“Anyway, the flight’s delayed a little bit just a heads up,” Andy pointed out. Not like it mattered much anyway. 

We got to the front of the security line and Andy, as called, did get chosen to be inspected. It was pretty funny to watch the security people get confused when he spoke. I laughed. God, I love Andy Hurley.

Joe thought this was funny too even though his bag got flagged. He had accidentally packed away a water bottle which was not a fun time for him trying to have to explain what had happened. I was lucky though. One place where stuff is usually smooth sailing. 

We walked to the gate and saw Patrick sitting by himself with four seats reserved with all his shit on them. Of course he’d be the one being super punctual. He was on his phone listening to music and texting someone. Joe sneaked up behind him and flicked his ear. He flinched and yanked his earbuds out.  
“Nice to see you too, jerk-off,” he grumbled. Andy sat across from him and immediately closed his eyes and started napping. I shook my head at this and patted his head.  
“Do that again and you’re getting punched,” he said calmly. I laughed and rolled my eyes. Joe purposefully took the seat next to Andy, leaving me with the seat next to Patrick. Joe shot me a smirk and I glared at him. Trying not to cause a scene, I sat down and pulled out my phone. Patrick’s eyes didn’t unglue themselves from the screen so there was no reason to be freaking out in my case. Still, I was uneasy and my stomach hurt.

None of us said anything until it was time to board. We lined up and got on the plane. We were in business and had our own little aisle of seats. Joe and Andy practically ran on the plane to grab their seats first. They were playing this stupidly pathetic game to try and get Patrick and I to talk to each other. Andy smiled innocently when he sat down next to Joe. I sighed quietly and sat down. I was really getting sick of this stupid game. I also wasn’t about to have a ‘heart to heart’ on a plane where literally everybody can hear. I’ll play nice. I’ll bite later.

This didn’t turn out to be so hard. I had my Xanax with me so I was out of it for most of the time. The only part where it was hard was when we went into some turbulence. It started getting really bumpy an hour and a half into the flight and it stayed that way for a good twenty minutes. I don’t like turbulence, but Patrick is even worse at it. He’s pretty good flying usually. Except for turbulence. I’m not sure what about it gets him, but he’s a wreck. 

I woke up to a huge jolt on the plane. The captain came over the intercom and announced we’d have some rough turbulence for a while. Patrick was gripping his armrest and his attention was forward. We felt another shake and bump. He closed his eyes and inhaled to try and take his focus off of it. Another big bump and his hand began trembling on the seat. 

I wanted to comfort him. But we hadn’t really spoken since a week ago. I wasn’t sure what was wrong with us. The plane shook again and I saw Patrick’s breath become shorter and heavier. His cheeks were turning a bit red and his hand began to shake even more. I sat and looked forward trying to calm myself down as well. I was starting to feel a bit nauseous. The plane jumped left and I jerked sideways. Patrick’s eyes hadn’t opened. I gave in. I couldn’t watch him suffer. If this was the last contact I got with him, I didn’t care. I grabbed his hand and began rubbing circles into his wrist with my thumb. My other hand stroked the inside of his palm gently.   
“Breathe,” I whispered. He swallowed and turned his chin downward. He tried to breathe as deep as he could. I could tell it wasn’t any easier for him.  
“Deeper. Drop your shoulders. Relax,” I said. He nodded and let his chest fill up with air. I kneaded his wrist slower and a bit harder. I could feel the tensity in his wrist. It was consuming his whole body.  
“Let it out. You’re okay. It’s okay,” I cooed. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. 

This continued for the next fifteen minutes until the turbulence had subsided. I had closed my eyes but I was still rubbing Patrick’s wrist. I hadn’t noticed that it had stopped until I felt his wrist loosen slightly. I opened my eyes and looked over at him. He was starting to relax as he tried to readjust himself back into his seat. He still had this worried expression on his face and I could tell he was radiating anxiety.   
“You okay?” I asked. He swallowed and nodded.   
“Are you sure?” I questioned again. He sighed.   
“I will be. Thank you,” he managed. He was still a bit shaken up from everything. I understood that. I squeezed his wrist and took my hand back. His eyes drifted away from me and he turned away a bit to try and fall asleep. I’m not sure if all of this was totally from the turbulence. He seemed stressed too on top of this. I wasn’t about to ask, hell no. I wanted nothing more for this show to be over and to be able to shut myself up in my apartment for the rest of eternity.


	13. Chapter 13

We landed and got set up in our hotel. Patrick, after we’d unpacked a bit, immediately went to go see Elisa. None of us said anything but Joe and Andy kept staring at me. When he left, they let loose.  
“Really? You’re just gonna sit back?” Andy barked. I looked at him.  
“What?” I asked. They both rolled their eyes.  
“I am so sick of watching this stupid soap opera of a love story you guys have. It’s fucking annoying,” Joe scoffed. I sighed. I didn’t have the energy to fight back.  
“You think I like living it?” I mumbled.  
“Pete, how many times do we have to tell you? How many break ups and dating other people does it have to take?” Andy complained.  
“If it was up to me, don’t you think I’d do something about it?” I said. Joe laughed sarcastically.  
“You’re even more oblivious than Stump. And that’s saying something,” he stated. Andy nodded his and I rolled my eyes.  
“Okay, well if it’s so fucking obvious, why don’t you share it with the class?” I said annoyedly. They both looked at each other before Joe blurted it out.  
“The man is in fucking love with you!” he shouted. I blinked.  
“And I’m suppose to just take your word for it?” I asked shifting the weight in my feet.  
“Yeah mainly because we can see this sort of shit,” Andy said.  
“And what am I suppose to do about the fact that he’s _married_? He’s moved on? I can’t exactly jump into that and fuck things up,” I shot back.  
“Not like you already haven’t…” mumbled Joe. I glared at him.  
“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” I said. He put his hands up.  
“Look Wentz, I’m not telling you what to do. Do whatever the hell you want. I’m just saying sitting here and complaining that things are hopeless when they aren’t is stupid,” he said.  
“Okay, but there was obviously a reason for him to have married Elisa,” I said. Andy and Joe looked around the room blankly. They then stared at me.  
“What?” I blurted.  
“You guys fell out. I don’t know all the dirty details of everything, but I do know your break up wasn’t, like, cuz anyone hated each other or something. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him,” Joe said. I sighed. Somewhere deep down beneath all the hurt, I knew why he’d married Elisa. It was easier. Keeping relationships out of the band was the smart thing to do. I’m sure that’s partially why I did it too. I guess it was just easier to be pissed off and angry at him than deal with the hurt. I felt that he wasn’t willing to work at it. He was giving up all hope on us. Every single chance, I had just struck out. And then just like that, he was out of my life. Not permanently, but he wasn’t there like he used to be. I couldn’t rely on him to be there all the time. Not like it was entirely his fault. I let him go. I didn’t chase him. Even though I should have.  
“Not like I’d know what to do to try and get him back anyway,” I said sadly.  
“Well, we can’t make that decision for you. Just whatever you do, don’t fuck it up, kay?” Andy said.  
“I’ll try my hardest,” I sighed. He slapped me on the shoulder and walked into the other room. Joe was still glancing at me. I crossed my arms and sighed.  
“Anything else you need to add?” I asked. He shrugged.  
“I hate seeing you miserable, Pete. Call me a sap all you want, but after all we’ve been through, I fucking care about you man,” he said earnestly.  
“Means a lot, Joe,” I said. I could feel my breaths piling on top of each other and gradually crushing my chest. Who knew air could kill you.  
“I can’t make your decisions for you, but please, for fucks sake, fix your relationship. I don’t care if you’re fucking or just friends, just make it normal. I can’t stand to be in the same with you two. You two just bring your awkwardness and it breeds in the room,” he said. I laughed at this.  
“Nice to know I can count on you to tell me like it is, Trohman,” I said. He raised an eyebrow at me before he pulled me into an abrupt hug. I was surprised when I found myself in Joe’s arms. He pulled back and looked me dead in the eye.  
“Promise me you’re gonna fix your life and make things better for yourself and for the band. Mainly for you,” he commanded. I nodded.  
“Yeah. I will,” I said. He let go of me and slowly walked out of the room. 

That night, we all turned in early. In the early band days, we’d probably be out lurking on the city streets looking for something to do. But now that we’re thirty and some of us have kids, sleep has become a priority. I _tried_ to sleep. I kept sitting there staring at the ceiling hoping that by some miracle, I’d pass out immediately. 

Chicago was staring at me through the window, keeping me awake with its’ blinking neon signs and howling wind from outside. Besides the sense of hollowness that usually consumes me, nostalgia seemed to be seeping in as well. I looked out the window to the street below. I remembered walking those sidewalks many times when I was an angsty teenager. I was pretty sure I had actually tagged the building across from here. That wall looked familiar despite the fact that if I had tagged it, all the graffiti had been washed off. The city can make you feel lonely. In a city full of millions of people, how come I feel like the last man alive?

I heard a thump come from outside my door. I looked over and it was slowly opening. I saw Patrick come in. He had his signature bedhead, hipster frames (although he was squinting from behind them), and pjs on. I didn’t say anything and merely looked at him. I was confused. He closed the door quietly and then came and laid down on the bed next to me. I panicked momentarily and then realized what he was doing. 

When we had just started to tour, Patrick used to come into my bunk and lie there with me when something was bothering him or had trouble sleeping. Most of the time, we ended up talking about whatever. Sometimes, we were silent. It depended on the night. I could usually tell by the way he got into the bed. It was basically like our version of mock therapy. He’d vent about whatever, I’d listen and give him advice or just help him relax. While my therapist would probably never approve of it, I have to admit it made me feel better sometimes. I think that’s where I learned how to be more open with Patrick than I could be with Ash or Meagen. Patrick would volunteer all the shit going on in his life and once I saw he was comfortable with it, I felt safer to do it too.

He took off his glasses and put them on the table next the bed. He stared up at the ceiling just like I did.  
“We really fucked up, didn’t we?” he said. At first, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to respond or not. I decided to buck up and play along.  
“Yeah,” I breathed out. _Great response._  
“What happened to things being so simple? Things were easier when we could just do this every night,” he said. Wasn’t that the truth. I looked out the window at the stragglers walking in the street, rushing to wherever they needed to go at 11 at night on a Friday. Somewhere better than here. I felt his head shift over to face me.  
“You hate me, don’t you?” he said. I leaned over to look at him.   “Why would you ever think that?” I asked.  
“I mean, I wouldn’t blame you. I’d hate me too if I was you,” he said. He looked up at the ceiling again.  
“To be honest, I’ve spent a lot of time hating you,” he admitted. My eyes flicked away from him. I felt my stomach start to hurt and things start to bottle up in my chest.  
“Not like you deserved any of it. I caused everything. I was pissed off and needed something to blame. I fucked up my whole life, and instead, I chose to be pissed at the only person who really cared about me,” he rambled.  
“Yeah. You did,” I said bitterly. It was all I could manage. He sighed sadly.  
“I’m really sorry, Pete. I wish I could go back and change everything. I wish I could fix everything,” he said sadly. I heard his throat close and his voice betrayed him. I blinked slowly to try and push the tears back.  
“I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just needed you to know,” he said. I breathed in choppily and then spoke.  
“For the record, I could never hate you. No matter how much I tried, I can’t. I don’t hate you. I hate what you did,” I said trying to keep it together. He looked at me. I could tell he was trying his best to hold everything in and be strong. _You don’t have to be so strong all the time._  
“Wow. Now I feel even guiltier,” he said. I chuckled.  
“Don’t,” I said. He inhaled and looked out at Chicago. I felt like I was walking on thin ice. I wasn’t sure what to say and what would cause one or both of us to do something we didn’t want to. I was bound to fall in anyway. I was getting this lingering feeling that this night was going to turn a sharp corner and spin out of control.  
“It doesn’t even matter anyway. What’s done is done. Life doesn’t have to be perfect. It’s naive to think so,” I said without thinking. He looked at me somewhat sadly. I could tell he was thinking about what he wanted to say. He opened his mouth and then closed it.  
“I don’t want to be filled with regret,” he practically whispered. I exhaled heavily. I could feel the situation slipping through my fingers. I was losing contact with the world. I was becoming reclusive. I was withdrawing. I kept getting drawn back in when I’d accidentally glance over at him. I’d get lost in his eyes (god how cliche). I’d try to focus and try for him. I was falling.  
“I…I know. I don’t either. But making a mistake could fuck everything up. Ruin your whole life. Look at me. My life, once again, is in shambles. Just not as scattered as it used to be,” I said. That was a lie. It’s pretty scattered. He reached out and then retracted his hand. He was looking for a sign. Something in me that’d show him this was okay and was it was alright to follow his gut. As badly as I wanted to give into sin’s lustful desire, I didn’t want to ruin everything. I feared falling into the unknown oblivion if Patrick were to walk away again. I turned away.  
“You can’t lose everything. I can’t make this mistake again,” I said as strong as I could. My voice was wavering and didn’t make anything convincing. I could feel the hurt emanating from him. I didn’t even have to look at him to know he was waiting and hoping that I’d change my mind. I…I can’t Patrick. God, how much I want to. Please. Don’t make things any harder than they already are. I felt him get up from the bed and his presence leave me. The door quietly creaked closed. My eyes felt sore though I hadn’t shed a single tear. My chest felt like it’d just been drop-kicked. It was hard to breathe. This overwhelming sense of ‘holy shit what have I done, I’ve ruined everything’ washed over me and I clasped my hand over my mouth. I was drowning in my own life. 


	14. Chapter 14

I stayed in bed the whole next morning laying in bed. Music was blaring in my ears and I hadn’t eaten anything. I told the guys I was just going to rest before the show since I wasn’t feeling too good. Joe looked at me worriedly and told me to take it easy. I tried to get myself in the zone to be able to go out and perform tonight. With enough convincing from myself, I can get in a place where I’m okay. I’ll do my job, maybe even interact with the crowd a bit, I won’t seem out of place. I won’t be registering on the sane scale though and numbness will be bleeding from my veins.

At about 4, Joe and Andy came in to tell me it was time to go. I threw on whatever clothes I had jammed in my suitcase. I went to the mirror and fixed my hair a bit. I looked at myself and sighed. This was me. This was my deck of cards that I was given. I had to play my hand or fold, even if I was going to ultimately lose. I stared at my eyes. My irises were paths into Wonderland. If you looked too long, you’re immediately lost and can’t find yourself. I’ve been stuck in that place too many times.

I walked out of the hotel room and grabbed my bass. I walked outside to the van and put my case in the trunk. I saw the tip of Patrick’s fedora peaking out from around the other side of the door. I ducked my head and entered the van and took my seat. Star crossed lovers. Safety hazards.

I saw Joe load his and Patrick’s amps into the back while Andy and some crew members stacked his drum set into the truck behind us. They then all met me in the van. We all looked at each other and didn’t say anything. I didn’t look at Patrick and he was trying his best to seamlessly avoid my eyes as well. Finally, Joe spoke up.  
“Back to where it all began,” he said with a slight smile. Andy and I nodded while Patrick tried his attempt at a smile.  
“Yeah, home sweet home,” he said. I looked down at my feet as I felt the van begin to move. 

As we arrived at Lincoln Hall, Chicago chilled me with it’s breeze. I stepped onto the half an inch of ice in the parking lot and almost slipped as I got out. I looked around the back entrance and felt like I had stepped back in time. It was 2002 and we were all exiting a similar van. Except then, we were nobodies and it was a big deal when we sold out shows. It’s not surprising anymore that we sell out a small club. How weird it is that perspective changes. 

I wrapped my hands in the sleeves of my jacket and quickly opened the door to the back of the van. The other three boys and some crew members hopped out too and began unloading all the equipment into the back of the stage. I slid my bass out between Joe’s amps and walked slowly into the Hall. I stepped on stage and stood looking out at the empty floor. Soon, this was going to be filled with people. Screaming people who paid to see desperate grown up teenagers screaming into microphones for attention. I was one of them once and I’ll always be one.

I opened my case and took out my bass. I sat down at the edge of the stage and began plucking at the strings. Aimless melodies and unfound harmonies. My feet dangled above the dark ground. I felt so small in that moment. Everything was so distant and far away. I was speck on the Earth that couldn’t even be seen. 

I needed to shake off this feeling of loneliness. It’s weird how your brain can create this false sense of security and then rip it away from you, leaving you shivering and confused. 

I saw a crew member walk by and tell our manager that a line of fans was already around the block waiting to get in. My mouth cornered into a small smile. You guys really are the best. That made me feel a bit better. The fans’ hope really does make me feel better. Knowing that the music means so much to someone or a bunch of someones means the world. Much more than anyone can know.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and saw Joe. He sat down next to me and looked at me cautiously.  
“Everything a-okay?” he asked.   
“Yeah, why?” I tried convincingly. He looked around for a bit and then returned his attention back to me. He put his hand on my arm.  
“You know, you deserve to be happy too, right?” he said finally. I breathed out.  
“Honestly. You should know that but I thought I’d remind you,” he said. He took his hand back and intertwined his fingers in his hand.   
“Time flies doesn’t it? How’d we get to be here from thirteen years ago?” he said.  
“Yeah. Crazy right? I remember vividly performing in front of small audiences in clubs like this. It’s weird. I’m sure it’ll be even weirder later,” I said. He nodded and sucked on the inside of his cheek.  
“Some things really never do change,” he said a little too directed at me. I looked at him. He then stood up and walked away. I rolled my eyes. I was getting sick of Andy and especially Joe trying to play matchmaker. Whatever. Things don’t change. People sometimes do though.

I got up and went downstairs into the small green room beneath the stage. I laid down on the couch down there and ended up dozing off. My body kept feeling like it was falling through the cushions and I couldn’t shake it off. I was uncomfortable, but I was slowly going through the set list. It didn’t make me feel better that we were playing some oldies. I loved the old songs. I just hated how much they meant to me. It also did hurt sometimes to hear Patrick sing my lyrics. That would never go away I doubted. 

My fingers twitched as I fingered Saturday slowly. I was having way too many flashbacks to old band days. Fights, the van crashing, crazy festivals, everything. I was consumed in a past world that could never exist again, but could be relived over and over again in the jail cell of my mind. I was falling down the rabbit hole and I wasn’t going to return.

I got woken up by a crew member telling me it was time to go and hit the stage. I was sweating and shaking. Now I was feeling sick. My stomach was twisting and I was pretty positive I was going to mess up during the set. I never got stage fright but I was getting a bit anxious from everything. I didn’t think it was a good idea to pop a Xanax to calm my nerves so I didn’t. I’d already taken my depression meds for the day so I just needed to go ahead and deal with everything. Sigh.

I picked up my bass and began walking up the stairs. I heard the crowd yelling from beneath the ground. The stage was dark and voices were trapped within the walls. The crew member quickly gave me an ear piece and I slid it in. I clipped the pack onto my jean pocket. I noticed the other guys were standing in a circle waiting for the opportune moment to hit the stage. Joe was adjusting his neck strap while Patrick was soaking in all of the energy he needed for the night. My stomach almost hurled itself out of my body when I saw him. I was going to throw up right here, right now. I bent over a bit. The gnawing pain was crippling my insides. I saw Andy walk out and sneak behind his drums. Joe followed him out on stage. I gripped the side of the wall nearest to me. Patrick walked over to me. He looked panicked.  
“Are you okay?” he asked. I nodded and walked as quickly as I could on stage. I glanced back and saw him standing behind the stage surprised and confused. I turned to face the screaming audience. I sucked in a breath, closed my eyes and counted to ten, exhaled and then opened my eyes. As I did this, the lights shot on and Patrick bounced on stage like nothing was wrong. He began singing The Phoenix and I followed along. I was okay for the moment. This show was going to be amazing. I felt it in my bones.

I was in the zone. Every song was coming out of me so naturally. I didn’t even have to think about what to do. I _knew_. Either that or I was straight up on auto-pilot. Whichever, doesn’t make a fucking difference. I was okay until Grand Theft Autumn. I’d forgotten that we’d put that on the set list and something in me just snapped. I’m sure I looked totally mortified for no reason on stage but I tried my best to keep it calm. I’m not sure what happened. The nausea shot right back into me and I turned around and gagged. Andy and Joe both shot me nervous looks. Andy mouthed ‘are you okay?’ I pretended like I didn’t see him and I turned around again. My stomach was knotting itself up and I couldn’t breathe. 

The song ended and the lights went black momentarily. I darted off stage quickly and puked all my guts up into the nearest trash can. I stood over the metal can briefly rethinking what events had led me to this moment. I tried to get my breath back but I couldn’t really. A crew member handed me a bottle of water. I thanked him and rinsed my mouth out. I wiped my mouth off on my sleeve and went back on stage. I shot the audience a prize winning smile and threw my fist up into the air. I drifted up to my mic and introduced Uma to the audience. Screams and shouts filled the room. I walked back down stage. My eyes flicked to look at the other three. All of them were doing their best to hold back their true ‘what the fuck’ reactions. I shook my head at them and shifted my feet around on stage. Joe picked up his cue and strummed out Uma. Though I wasn’t looking at him, I could tell Patrick was trying to exchange worried glances at me. I sighed and tried to shake off the events that had just happened.


	15. Chapter 15

The show ended and everything was okay. The crowd went wild and demanded us to come back on stage even after the encore had happened. As much as I’d love to distract myself for another couple of hours, I needed to pass out. I walked off stage and followed the stairs down to the green room. I put my bass in its’ case and latched it up quickly. I then immediately went out into the alley and slid against the wall. I took in the frigid night air. The air tingled and stung my lungs as it filled in the empty spaces. Not even a moment after that, Patrick came barging through the back door looking for me. The door slammed and he was freaking out.  
“What the literal fuck? Where’d you go after the set? I tried to follow you off stage but you literally ran out of the place,” he said out of breath. I sighed.  
“You need to tell me what’s going on right now. I don’t care what’s going on between us, I need to know right now. Spill,” he demanded. My eyes looked away from him. He gripped my jacket and pushed me up against the concrete wall. I was shocked. He’d never done this before.  
“Pete. Tell me now. Cut the bullshit,” he said angrily. I was struggling to form words. My brain was scrambling to say something but my mouth wasn’t moving.  
“Pete Wentz, I swear to God if you don’t tell me I will punch you in the fucking mouth,” he threatened. I felt nauseous again. My throat closed up and croaked out a noise of pain and utter struggle. When that happened, the tears filled my eyes. Patrick’s expression changed and he looked incredibly guilty.   
“No…no, Pete. I’m so sorry…I don’t know what got into me. Please don’t…I’m so sorry…I…fuck. I’m so sorry,” he stuttered. He let go of me and I fell into his arms. I was weak and hollow. My head fell on his shoulder and I let ten years of pain and struggle out. Sobs and pain that I’d had locked up escaped me like no tomorrow. I was an open book. A wave of panic and overwhelming sadness swept over me. I heard Patrick cover his mouth to try and suffocate the cries coming out of him.   
“I just wish I was enough for you,” I cried. It was the truest sentence I’d ever spoken. It sounded so ugly and horrible through my wavering and unsteady voice, but it couldn’t be more honest.   
“You were…You still are. Oh God Pete…I’m so fucking sorry for everything. I fucked everything up…I’m so sorry,” he weeped. I couldn’t feel anything. I was trembling as the sounds and tears seeped out of my body. I felt like I was bleeding out and couldn’t control anything. He gripped me tightly and tried to pull me in closer. The space between us was non-existent. The closest we’d ever be.

I pulled off of him and began to gather myself up. I hated crying and especially that hard and uncontrollable. I felt my eyes begin to puff up. I sniffed and wiped off my face. Patrick looked away from me and squeezed his eyes shut to block any further tears from falling. He inhaled deeply and then exhaled immediately. I bit my tongue and was trying to reboot my brain. I needed to take back control of my thoughts and sanity. If anymore things slipped out, I would lose it for real.

Patrick rubbed his hands nervously.   
“I…I’ve been needing to tell you something. I need to talk to you,” he said, sadness and tears still staining his voice. I looked up at him trying to clear the clouds away from my thoughts. Quite naive of a thought or a request. He gathered himself up and tensed up.  
“I don’t know how to say it so I’m just gonna come out and say it.”  
He paused. His leg was shaking and his eyes flicked away from me.   
“I…” he started. I sat there waiting for him to finish. He stopped and looked as if he was thinking about what to say next. I was impatient so I harped at him.  
“Oh for God’s sake, Patrick. Spit it out,” I snapped. He looked me directly in the eye and then immediately pulled me in for a kiss. It felt like it’d been forever since I’d been in this spot. Might as well have been. Though I could taste the salty tears between our lips, his lips were warm and inviting. They lulled me in, telling me it was okay. His tongue slipped through my lips and gently caressed mine. He pulled back and I was stunned. Don’t get me wrong, I had absolutely fucking loved that, but I was confused.  
“…why…?” was all that came out. He smiled slightly and looked at you.  
“It’s you. It’s always been you. I don’t know why I’ve tried to convince myself otherwise. My best friend, it’ll always be you,” he said softly. I looked at him.   
“I know I’ve hurt you in so many ways. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I wouldn’t forgive me if I was you. I just needed you to know that…I do love you,” he said. He had paused before saying those four words but he said them. And he meant them. I knew it.  
“I’ve done a lot of thinking since the band got back together. When we were together at the tail end of my solo career, it was like returning to a summer fling that had happened years and years ago. I thought it would blow over. I didn’t think this was suppose to last. You know…we’re disasters as is…” he said. I smiled.   
“I was wrong,” he said abruptly. I sucked in a breath.  
“I thought that the right thing to do was drop this relationship and keep things out of the band when we got back together. It was the smarter option to go with. Of course, not the best choice,” he said. I shifted my foot on the ground. My stomach was turning, but I dared not let it get the best of me.  
“I was miserable, obviously, but happier when I met Elisa. That was nice for a while. Until you started dating Meagen. Then…I’m sorry for being such an asshole about everything. That wasn’t fair of me,” he said apologetically.  
“You’re telling me…” I mumbled.   
“I got jealous I guess. I never thought I was the jealous type. I figured you were okay with everything so I thought I should be too. But I just couldn’t be. Seeing you so miserable after your break up and even before then, I couldn’t convince myself that this was the right life. It didn’t feel right. I guess Elisa saw it too because she understood when I said I couldn’t continue this,” he continued. A sliver of hope shot through my body. I looked up at him, filled with hopeful sadness. He stroked my cheek lightly.  
“I need you. Always and forever,” he said gently. I felt myself melting in the moment.  
“God, that was so cheesy. Why is this working?” I said. He laughed.  
“Yeah…sorry about all of that,” he said. I looked down, smiling.  
“I did mean everything, Pete. All of it. I need you. I promise I’ll never make that same fucking mistake again. I hope you can forgive me,” he said earnestly. I pushed his face away playfully away with my fist. He cracked a smile.  
“How could I ever be without my Stump?” I pointed out.   
“You’ve managed before…” he said. I could tell hurt was leaking in to his mind. I pulled him into my arms.  
“You did hurt me. I will admit that. You hurt me so fucking bad. I questioned whether even living was right or not. I managed, doesn’t mean it was fun. Tolerating life isn’t living,” I explained. I felt his eyes drop to my feet. His breathing was slow.  
“I think the thing that hurt me the most was when I heard you singing my lyrics and not knowing anything,” I said. He didn’t say anything.  
“My words in your mouth. It’s like a dagger in the heart when I hear you voicing my complaints and cries. Especially when they’re for you,” I explained. He sighed heavily.  
“I know you didn’t want to make anything awkward or whatever…it just hurt and it was the breaking point,” I admitted. He turned his head up towards mine.  
“I…I’m so sorry. I’ve loved every word you’ve written for me. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I didn't want to admit it to myself because I didn’t want to be falling into something that I thought wasn’t right. But hearing those words…there’s nothing in comparison,” he said.   
“You don’t know how much that means to me,” I whispered. He nestled his head between mine and my shoulder. I looked at my breath in the cold, dark air. It was the only thing keeping us from being truly frozen in this arctic night.

We were silent for a couple moments. I’m not sure what was going through Patrick’s mind, but I was trying to grasp everything. My whole world had been turned upside down and I needed to be able to understand what the situation was. Before I could argue, the words were shoving themselves out of their mouth.  
“So you broke up with Elisa?” I blurted. He looked up at me and nodded.  
“That’s where I went last night. She had seen it coming for months but yesterday was when I officially told her,” he explained. I felt guilty about ruining his relationship. Elisa was a nice girl. He deserved someone nice and normal.  
“I feel bad that I ruined that for you,” I said quietly. He pulled himself away from me.  
“Don’t. You didn’t ruin anything. Don’t even put that thought in your mind,” he said bluntly.   
“It’s just…you deserve someone like her. Normal. Nice. Pretty. Not fucked over in the head and someone who has issues everyday,” I said. He looked up at me and shook his head.  
“Yeah, that’d be easier wouldn’t it? Unfortunately, the heart wants what the heart wants. Sorry Pete. You can’t get out of this one,” he said. I laughed.   
“But seriously. If I had wanted her, I would have stayed with her. Don’t make me say this ten thousand times. I’m getting nauseous from all this mushy, sappy stuff,” he said making a face. I rolled my eyes and shoved him over. He laughed and shoved me back. We both sat back laughing. The laughter subsided and we both were left alone with ourselves and our thoughts.  
“So…would you wanna…like…start-“  
“I don’t know. I have a list of people I need to fuck before I die. We can’t be exclusive when I’m trying to get Mila Kunis to look in my direction,” I teased. He almost looked hurt and then immediately rolled his eyes.  
“Yes, Trick. Of course,” I said. He smiled and looked down at the ground.  
“I love you, Pete,” he said. I pulled him into my arms and planted a big, obnoxious kiss on his head.  
“God, why do you have to make everything so annoying?” he complained, his face smushed up against my chest. I laughed.   
“I suppose you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” he concluded. I nodded against his head and held him tightly against me, refusing to let go.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aw even i don't want this story to be over, here's the last chapter though. enjoy :)

We sat there for a few more minutes. I was trying to wrap my head around the whole idea of us being here. Together. Making this promise or vow to each other to never leave each other’s side. I was holding myself to this. No more temporary shit. Let’s get permanent. 

I heard crew members beginning to approach the alley door and start loading stuff onto the bus. I stood up and helped Patrick up from the ground.  
“Really? You’re making me stand up now? After this? What a mood killer,” he complained.  
“If you’re good and help pack up the stuff, I promise I’ll make it up to you,” I said winking. Okay. Smooth.  
“Oh, really?” he said smirking.  
“Sure. Pinky promise,” I purred. His face twisted into a smile.  
“Alright. I’m holding you to it,” he said trying to contain his pleasure. 

I’m not kidding when I say we’re about as horny as teenagers. That doesn’t go away. Maybe it’s because I’m desperate and Meagen and I haven’t done anything for months with her being pregnant and all. She was kinda moody and didn’t really want to be touched. My left hand and I got to know each other pretty well. Besides when Patrick and I got together, I basically felt like an impure virgin. I don’t know about Patrick. All I do know is he loves this stuff. He’s a monster consuming everything in his path, even though he may not come off as it. I’m sure this is all just too much fucking information. Just trying to be honest. 

I grabbed my bass case and put it up in the van. I passed by Joe and he gave me a look. He was really confused I’m sure. He heard Patrick being more chipper than he had been for a while. He glared at me and all I did was flash him a smile and press my finger to my lips.  
“I don’t kiss and tell,” I said narrowing my eyes. He rolled his eyes.  
“You guys are gross. Keep your sappiness out of here,” he stated. I laughed and crossed my fingers. I helped him carry some amps out to the van. He kept shaking his head at me. I could tell he was joking. I’m sure he was just glad things were normal for now. Patrick came out to the van carrying a bunch of cords. My eyes flicked up to him and then back down to my hands to continue shoving stuff in disorder. Patrick dropped a cord and we both automatically crouched down to reach for it. Joe coughed obnoxiously and we both looked at him.  
“I hope I get to be the best man. I’ll be pretty fucking offended if I’m not,” he said. Patrick blushed and I laughed and stood up. I held my arms out and immediately pulled him for a squeeze.  
“We wouldn’t forget about you Joe fro. You’re the best. Besides, I’m already basically married to you so,” I said. He pushed himself out of me rolling his eyes.  
“Uh huh. Whatever you say,” he said walking back into the venue. Patrick let out a chuckle. 

After about an hour of packing up and thanking the people at the venue, it was time to go. It was about two in the morning and the place was closed. Joe grabbed his last couple of things from the green room. I was sitting downstairs on my phone when he walked up to me and tapped me.  
“Time to head back,” he said.  
“Okay, sure. I’ll meet you up there,” I said. He turned and walked up the stairs. As soon as he left, Patrick walked down the stairs and flicked off the lights. I chuckled.  
“Oh no. I’m afraid of the dark. What ever shall I do?” I said sarcastically. In all reality, I couldn’t see a thing. The room was dead silent. I knew he was lurking in here somewhere. I didn’t know what he was going to do though. I immediately felt a head pop up behind my ear. I almost flinched as I felt his breath coating my neck.  
“I packed up my stuff,” he said quietly.  
“Did you know?” I replied.  
“Yeah,” he said. This was starting out somewhat awkwardly. I needed to fix that stat. I didn’t need something happening. I needed this now. I turned around to face his voice. I put my hand up in the darkness to try to find his face. I finally found his check and put my palm on it.  
“You didn’t do everything I told you. You’ve been naughty. What makes you so sure I should give you what you want?” I asked demeaningly.  
“A promise is a promise,” he whispered. I could tell he was smirking. I narrowed my eyes.  
“And I’m keeping you to your word,” he growled.  
“Pushy. Fair enough,” I said. He pushed me onto my back. I felt his body heat above me. This malicious feeling and atmosphere was creeping in through the walls. Patrick was luring them in. His wrist slipped behind my head and began kissing me roughly. I kissed back desperately. I’d missed out on this for basically two years (with the exception of that one night). I wanted all the moments I’d missed out to be made up for. 

His tongue slid into my mouth. I dug my fingers into the skin on the back of his neck. He let out a groan between our mouths. I shifted my leg in between his to the point where he was straddling me. He started inching my shirt up slowly. I pulled my mouth off of his for a moment to throw my shirt off. I was breathing heavily but I fell back into him. His hands ran up and down my chest, stroking every inch of skin they could. I moaned into him. My hand shot up abruptly and knocked what I think was his hat. He laughed breaking the kiss and I felt my face get red. I didn’t care. Fuck it.

I pulled his shirt off of him and he basically fell on top of me. We both let out gasps and then laughs. He pulled my head up to his and dragged my mouth back into his. I felt him fiddling with my belt beneath me.  
“The skinny jeans are gonna be a pain,” I said between his mouth. He laughed into me.  
“Yeah, should’ve seen that coming,” he said. The whole mood we’d try to create was gone. But I was pleasantly surprised with this spontaneous and more natural one that had spawned. He got my belt undone and started yanking the pants off of me. I slipped my hands onto his waist and pulled down his as well.  
“What are we doing,” he mumbled.  
“…don’t know. Don’t care. Just need you. All of you now,” I breathed out. He took that as his invitation to flip me over. I dug my hands into the fabric beneath me. I heard him tearing open a condom packet and a small tube of lube. He rolled it on and then steadied himself above me.  
“You ready?” he whispered in my ear. I nodded and then realized it was dark.  
“Do it,” I reaffirmed. I felt him push one finger into me and I yelped and then covered my mouth. I was praying no one had heard. I felt every muscle inside of me tense up and jump up. He twisted it around and tried to loosen me.  
“Am I making you nervous?” he asked slyly.  
“You always make me nervous. Heart beating out of my fucking chest,” I growled. I knew he had that twisted grin on his face. He slipped a second finger and I shut my eyes tightly. My hands begun to shake as I gripped onto the couch.  
“One more. You’re doing great,” he said. I nodded against the couch and breathed out. Sweat was dripping down from my forehead. Heat emanated off of our bodies. Explosions. Collisions. Fusions.

He put the final finger in and I tried to suppress a moan unsuccessfully. It was louder than I had intended it to be.  
“Okay. You’re so great,” he praised. Without a notice, he slid his fingers out and pushed himself in. My eyes shot open and my mouth dropped open. A noise escaped my hollow chest. My breath was gone. I was gone. He began thrusting slowly into me. His hands were on my hips holding me steady. My whole body was trembling. I felt each bead of sweat roll down my back and across my spine. He leaned his nose down and skidded across my back gently. I stuttered out inhumane sounds. My breathing was hitched and getting caught up in my throat as I struggled to push air in and out of my body. He leaned down pressed himself closer to me as he thrusted faster and deeper into me. Everything in me was squeezing and tensing all at once. I felt muscles I didn’t even know I had pull inside of me. I was being crushed into nothing but a euphoric dust. 

I moaned as his fingers dug into my sides.  
“God Patrick…fuck…” I moaned. He sighed aggressively. He fucked me deeper and deeper and eventually hit my prostate which sent me completely over the edge. I was out of my body at that point and I was gone. I was watching myself fall in and out of my skin as Patrick gorgeously splayed himself above me. Dominating me. Claiming me. I let out an audible yell of pleasure and my body fell limp after that. Patrick grunted with satisfaction and I could hear his loud breathing and sighing. I’d missed this for too long. I fell back into my body and immediately was on the verge of spiraling.  
“Trick…I…” I stuttered.  
“Okay…it’s okay,” he exhaled. I came all over my stomach. He followed after me and pulled out. I heard him fall to his back. I laid there breathlessly. I was half aware and half not. This weird stream of partial consciousness was pulsing through my veins. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to be awake right now or not. If this was a dream, God never let me wake up. 

My hand lazily pulled up my boxers over my ass and I turned myself over lazily. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness mostly. I saw Patrick’s chest rising and falling quickly as he tried to regain his breath.  
“Holy…fucking…shit…” he gasped. I sighed and smiled.  
“That was…unexpected. Wow…I don’t remember you being that good,” I said. I felt him hit my leg.  
“Rude. But I do have to say…holy shit. I’ve been missing out on some mind-blowing stuff,” he breathed out. I laughed. I dragged myself over and draped my body over his. I rested my head on his chest as I felt his breathing slow down a bit. He put his hand on my neck.  
“Hi,” I said. He giggled.  
“Hey,” he replied.  
“Do you…?” I started. I wanted to ask him if he knew about the night of monumentour. I figured it didn’t matter now anyway. Whatever his response was, it didn’t dictate what now meant.  
“Do I what?” he asked.  
“Nothing. I just…I really love you, ‘Trick,” I said. He kissed my forehead gently.  
“Love you too,” he said. My hand trailed up his body until it reached his head. I ran my hands through his hair. He laughed.  
“I’ve missed this,” I said tiredly as I stroked the strands.  
“I bet you have,” he said. I heard something buzzing. I searched for my phone with my one free hand.  
“Shit it’s Joe,” I said showing Patrick the screen.  
“He’s probably wondering where the hell we are. We should head back up so we can go to the hotel before they kick our asses,” he said. I smiled.  
“I suppose,” I said. I began to stand up and redress myself. As I was pulling up my jeans, I heard Patrick stop.  
“Pete?” he asked.  
“Yeah?” I said.  
“Can we…when we get back?” he asked innocently. I know it’s sappy to get all happy about cuddling after sex, but it was one of my favorite parts and hell yes I was about to take advantage of it. I walked over to him, picked up his shirt, and tossed it in his face.  
“Course we can,” I stated before pulling my own over my head. I could tell he was rolling his eyes.

After quickly redressing, we dashed up the stairs and got in the van.  
“For fucks sake. Why did you take so long?” Joe complained. Before one of us could make up some bullshit excuse, Andy blurted it out.  
“They were totally fucking,” he said bluntly. Patrick immediately blushed and I tried my best not to look totally mortified.  
“Look at his hair and Pete’s clothes. All out of sorts. Don’t think I don’t know,” Andy said eyeing me. I broke into laughter. Patrick cracked a guilty smile and turned his head down.  
“As I said earlier, gross,” said Joe. We laughed and I punched Joe in the arm.  
“Well, next time, could you guys do it in the hotel room so we don’t have to wait for you in the van?” he asked. I rolled my eyes.  
“Just for you Joefro,” I promised.  
“Bueno, things are back to the way they were. Let’s hope they stay that way,” he said before putting his earbuds in. I glanced over at Patrick. His eyes flicked to me and then down to the seat of the van. We were mutually exchanging whatever. Doesn’t matter anyway.

Patrick and I aren’t perfect in any way, shape, or form. We both have our issues. Whether one day its’ dealing with my fucked up head or his body issues, we work in unison. I’m sure we’re not like other relationships but then again, when do we ever follow anyone else’s standards? In the end, we’re just two kids from Chicago, screaming into microphones for attention because we’re just so bored.


End file.
